


In The Walls

by Bellajuku



Category: Finder, Finder no Hyouteki | Finder Series
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-07-21
Updated: 2016-12-22
Packaged: 2018-02-09 21:32:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 23,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1998585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bellajuku/pseuds/Bellajuku
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Violent deaths beget violent spirits- Asami isn't the first man to own his penthouse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone~ I know I have a lot of people waiting for Blow to update and I just want to let you know that I haven't abandoned it, I've just been very busy and not very inclined to work on it at the moment. I will come back to it, but it might be a little bit until you see an update. I have it planned out, but I'm still tacking down the details.
> 
> Anyway.
> 
> I'm really into horror, and I'm working on a few vaguely scary original stories, but I also wanted to write something for Finder so, this is what we ended up with. I foresee this being 4-5 chapters long, give or take, and it doesn't have an ending yet so we'll see how it goes. This is mostly for me, because I enjoy writing it. I hope you guys like it too.
> 
> I thought it was interesting in volume 7, chapter 44.1, when Asami talked about how the original owner of the penthouse had designed it with the escape passage in the hidden room, but had died -presumedly been killed- in the penthouse anyway.
> 
> Don't expect to piss yourselves, I'm not particularly experienced in this genre, but I hope you find it interesting and at least a little bit unsettling.
> 
> Please enjoy and review~

 

_Ghosts are not people._

 

_They are not incorporeal grandparents hovering over our shoulders._

 

_Ghosts are the leftovers._

 

_They are every emotion ever felt by their originator, boiled down and distilled until only the strongest- often the ugliest- remains._

 

_They are uncaring, unsympathetic, unyielding._

 

_They never rest._

 

_}{_

 

At a quarter past two in the morning, Akihito had decided that enough was enough.

 

He pushed away from the kitchen table, his chair screeching loudly against the linoleum, before standing and heading towards the bedroom, ignoring the light switch. 

 

It wasn’t Asami’s fault; the older man had texted him ages ago saying he would be late and that Akihito should go to bed, get some rest. He’d wished him goodnight, promised to make it up to him in the morning and Akihito had no doubt that he _would,_ in all manor of ways, but that didn’t particularly help him right _now_.

 

He walked through the penthouse quiet and barefoot, listening intently. The only sound was his own gentle footsteps. For some reason, that didn’t make him feel any better. He flicked light switches as he went, casting off the shadows in every corner. By the time he made it to the bedroom, the whole penthouse was aglow behind him. He hoped absently that Asami wouldn’t notice or, at least, wouldn’t say anything.

 

He shut the bedroom door firmly, making sure the doorjamb latched properly so that it couldn’t drift open. He thought about locking it, but that would have been _really_ ridiculous and serve to not only confuse Asami, but probably piss him off as well. He stared at it for a moment, only to back away and head for the bed.

 

He slipped his hoodie off one shoulder, then the other, before dropping it onto the bureaux along the wall. He fished his cellphone out of the pocket and crawled into bed with it, holding it tightly in his hand. The bed felt very big and very empty when he occupied it by himself. It felt cold. He thought about retrieving his hoodie but decided against it. Asami would in all likelihood be home soon and the man gave off heat like a furnace; he’d probably end up taking it off.

 

He never felt like this when Asami was there; skittish and hunted. It was only in his absence that the shadows jumped, the walls creaked. There was no real reason for this, at least not that Akihito could think of. Nothing had ever happened there that would make him wary of the apartment, or uneasy to be left there. The slowly growing sense of anxiety that kept him looking over his shoulder was baseless and embarrassing, but he just couldn’t shake it. 

 

He felt pathetic, curled on the bed, a pillow at his back to keep from feeling exposed. Exposed to what he wondered? The monster under the bed? That was almost funny; he spent all day chasing real monsters, laughing in their faces, but he couldn’t turn out the bedside lamp.

 

Slowly, irritation with himself began to erode at his unease. What sort of journalist was afraid of the dark? He huffed, reaching for the light switch, and plunged the room into darkness. 

 

}{

 

When he woke, Akihito was unsure if he’d been properly asleep or just dozing, unaware. He didn’t feel rested, only groggy and confused and he wished to fall back asleep before his mind became completely alert.

 

At that thought though, he realized it was a bit too late for that and sighed petulantly. Rolling, he threw his arm out to the other side of the bed, hoping to catch Asami’s attention, maybe get kissed back to sleep. His hand touched down on cool, unwrinkled sheets and he froze, mind finally catching up.

 

If Asami wasn’t even home then how long had he actually been asleep? He groped for his phone before tapping the screen and wincing at the bright display.

 

**_3:01 am_ **

 

He couldn’t have been asleep for more than half an hour then, so why was he awake? Even when he was by himself, Akihito wasn’t prone to sleepless nights and rare was the occasion that he woke without reason. Something must have disturbed him.

 

He lifted his head off of the pillow and listened carefully. It was as quiet as always, nearly silent. All the surrounding apartments were vacant and he was far to high above street level to hear the traffic that never stopped. Akihito knew there were small platoons of Asami’s men stationed around the building in case of an emergency, but they were quiet and unobtrusive. There wasn’t a sound the be heard.

 

Satisfied, he put his head back down, only to be startled by a loud bang.

 

He lurched upwards and scrabbled for the switch on the bedside lamp, fumbling twice before turning it with a curse, flooding the room with light.

 

He scanned the room quickly, unsure of where the sound had come from or what he was even looking for. An intruder was almost entirely out of the question; no one could have entered the apartment without Asami’s men knowing. 

 

There was another bang, slightly softer this time, followed by a quick succession of smaller thumps. Slowly, Akihito’s gaze slid towards the innermost wall.

 

There, past the en suit bathroom and walk-in closet, was the secret room. There was no door, only a section of wall with no obstructions and a switch hidden in the headboard of the bed, the one Akihito had found by accident so long ago. The noise was coming from there. 

 

All the anxiety that had been building within him throughout the night gathered in the pit of his stomach like a hot coal and he listened intently, hoping for the silence that had unnerved him only hours before.

 

The thumping got louder.

 

Slowly, Akihito pulled himself up to kneel, letting the blankets pool around his bare legs. He put his hand on the headboard and flipped open the hatch that hid the small button, internally debating whether or not it was worth investigating.

 

Of course it was.

 

With the button pressed, the wall slowly revolved to reveal the dark space beyond. The noise sounded louder now, less muffled, but he couldn’t see an obvious source. He grabbed his phone as a makeshift flashlight and slid out of bed to creep closer.

 

Aside from the generally questionable contents of the room, nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary. He held his phone up and let the pale light illuminate the walls, only to fumble and nearly drop it when the noise returned, frantic in it’s pounding.

 

Quickly, Akihito swiveled towards the source and his light fell upon another seemingly innocuous wall.

 

_Of course...  
_

With every beat of the strange noise, the wall shivered as if being pound upon on the other side which was _impossible_ because on the other side of that particular wall- which wasn’t a wall at all- was a narrow escape passage that was built into the apartment by it’s original owner. 

 

Asami had shown it to him one afternoon, months ago. He’d taught him how to open it and how to get out of the apartment through it. There were several turns and false hallways built in to throw off any pursuers, but the true route was quite simple to memorize; if followed correctly, it dumped out into a quiet corner of the underground parking-garage. Asami had walked him through it, then made him walk it by himself. The whole exercise had seemed painfully melodramatic and Akihito had rolled his eyes the whole time. It wasn’t until later that he really considered the implications; Asami had taught him how to save his own life.

 

Akihito shook his head as the shuddering intensified. It was as if someone was throwing their entire body against the other side of the wall, desperate to escape. That was impossible though; the only way to enter the passage was through the apartment. Even the door leading to the parking-garage could only be opened from the inside. No one could have been there and yet...

 

Really, the only thing to do was open it. 

 

The switch for this wall was concealed, just as the other was. Akihito reached out to the wall-mounted shadowbox displaying antique firearms and slid it to the side, pressing the button that was revealed. The wall slid away.

 

There was nothing.

 

Akihito stared as all the adrenalin he’d been feeling bottomed out into a cold sweat. There was _nothing_ but pure darkness.

 

Very pure darkness. 

 

He raised his phone again, tapping the screen to bring up the display, only to find that it _was_ up; the light just wasn’t strong enough to penetrate the gloom on the other side of the doorway.

 

Stepping forward, he watched in awe as the darkness seemed to swallow whatever light was directed towards it. It was like a black-hole, a total void. 

 

The noise had stopped, replaced by a noticeable _lack_ of sound. Even his own breathing sounded faint, though he could feel his ragged breaths shuddering in and out, in and out

 

As if compelled, he took another step forward.

 

He wondered, if he had his camera, would the flash be enough to illuminate the pitch darkness? If he took a picture, what would it capture? Nothingness? How could anything be so dark..?

 

He reached out and was mildly surprised when his hand connected with the doorway. When had he gotten so close? It didn’t matter. He felt detached, as if he was watching his actions from afar. He was almost inside the passage and yet could see nothing beyond the threshold. It was wrong, _wrong_ but fascinating. 

 

He took another step-

 

“ _Akihito.”_

 

A hand clamped down on his shoulder and Akihito whirled, too startled to even yell. He sucked in a gasp as he lost his balance, falling backwards only to be caught and hauled upright again, dragged bodily away from the darkness.

 

Asami was holding him by the waist, squeezing a bit too tightly and looking carefully down at him.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

“I...”

 

He tried to answer immediately and found that he couldn’t. Slowly, memories of the past few minutes filtered back to him and he focused on putting them into words, even as his teeth began to chatter.

 

“There was a noise... I... it came from here...”

 

Akihito gestured back towards the passage, glancing over to find that what was a seconds ago a pitch black void was now faintly lit by the light in the room they occupied. It was still dark, but he could make out the walls, the tiles, things he hadn’t even been able to guess at before. 

 

“- noise?”

 

“...Huh?”

 

“ _What kind of_ noise, Akihito?”

 

“Like... thumping... Someone was banging on the wall.”

 

Asami looked down at him sharply and along with the concern Akihito was expecting, there was a dose of skepticism.

 

“From the inside?”

 

Akihito nodded, too shaken to be properly insulted by his disbelief.

 

“You’re sure?”

 

“ _Yes.”_

 

He nodded emphatically and for the first time, Asami seemed to take notice of his uneasiness. 

 

“You’re _shaking...”_

 

He rubbed his hands up and down Akihito’s arms quickly before pulling him into his chest and taking out his cell phone. He spoke quietly into the receiver and minutes later,there were half a dozen of his men in the passage, searching every twist and turn, scouring the parking garage and reviewing the security tapes. 

 

There was nothing.

 

}{

 

“Are you sure you weren’t dreaming-”

 

“ _Yes.”_

 

Akihito twisted out of Asami’s arms and moved to lean against the kitchen counter, arms crossed, finger tips digging into his elbows. After all he’d gone through in the last few hours he actually would have _liked_ to be held, but not if Asami was going to insist he’d imagined the whole thing.

 

“And you’re sure it wasn’t just me closing the front door?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Asami sighed, but not impatiently, before mirroring Akihito’s pose against the refrigerator. 

 

“Akihito there was nothing there-”

 

“There _was_ -”

 

Asami shook his head like he was reasoning with a child. 

 

“I’ll show you the security footage if you want, it doesn’t even pick up a _sound._ ”

 

Akihito looked up sharply.

 

“What?”

 

“There was no bang. No thumping.”

 

Akihito’s mouth dropped open but he didn’t have the words to express his thoughts. He processed this new information and it was several seconds before he muttered.

 

“...I’m not making it up.”

 

He heard Asami release a breath like he’d been holding it before the older man stepped forward and reached for his hands. Reluctantly, Akihito allowed him to take them, conscious of faint tremors that still shook through them.

 

“I didn’t say you were. But Akihito you were completely disoriented when I found you; I was calling your name and you weren’t responding, I had to grab you to get your attention. You weren’t even _half_ awake.”

 

“You... really think I was dreaming?”

 

He wasn’t denying it anymore, only asking. Asami had no reason to lie to him about this and if there was nothing to be heard on the security tape... then the sounds could only have come from his own head.

 

“I know you were dreaming. I’ve seen you dream, you’re very expressive.” He brought his hands to his face and kissed his knuckles devotedly. “I’m sorry it wasn’t a _better_ dream,” he murmured suggestively. “That would have been more fun to watch.”

 

Akihito snorted irritably and jerked away as he normally would at that sort of comment. His movements lacked their usual vehemence though and Asami wasn’t fooled. He kept his arms open and after a moment, Akihito returned to them.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone! Thank you so much for all the wonderful feedback, I'm really pleased with how this story is being received and I hope you all continue to enjoy it.
> 
> I'm sorry it's been so long between updates, I just finished a bartending certification course and night classes take up a lot more time than you would think, considering I spent most of my non-class time studying or commuting. I'm not back in full force- tomorrow night I'm guest bartending at pub as my first little gig and then after that I'm gonna be job hunting for a while- but I wanted to post a chapter for you guys while I had a little downtime.
> 
> Also, if any of you have any interest in my life or whatever, you can come see me on tumblr at bellajuku .tumblr .com (no spaces), which I post on waaayyy more frequently than this or fanfiction. If you're ever miffed as to why I'm not updating, your answer is probably there.
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy and remember to let me know what you think~

 

}{

Days later, the incident was all but forgotten.

Akihito went about his business as usual, both in and out of the penthouse, doing his best not to think about whatever it was he'd experienced that night. Asami had returned reasonably early every night since and Akihito was almost positive he was doing it on purpose; Asami had never been home so consistently in all the time Akihito had lived with him. He wasn't about to say anything though; it was a rare blessing for Asami to be subtle.

There was also the fact that Akihito didn't want the subject reopened.

He was stir-frying beef when his phone rang and he was ready to ignore it before glancing over at the caller i.d. and cussing; if he let Asami roll to voicemail he'd never hear the end of it.

One hand still stirring vigorously, Akihito strained to reach his phone and tapped the screen, wedging it between his head and shoulder.

"Let me guess, you're not coming home?"

_"Good evening Akihito, I take it you're doing well?"_

Akihito rolled his eyes, flipping the contents of the pan so that it sizzled appetizingly.

"Hear that? That's you're dinner. Doesn't sound like that coming out of the microwave at four in the morning, does it?"

There was a low chuckle on the other end.

_"I'm sure I'll make due. I'm more interested in how you're doing at the moment?"_

Akihito made a face, glad Asami couldn't see him and...  _analyze_  it or something.

"What do you mean how I'm doing? I'm  _busy,_ I have food on the stove."

It was an oddly solicitous remark to begin with, but Akihito knew exactly where it was coming from and he hoped the exasperation in his voice would be enough to deter further questioning. Then again, Asami had never been easy to deter.

_"Will you be alright by yourself?"_

_Oh God..._

The last thing he wanted was  _this._ He wasn't some trembling waif that needed looking after and checking up on, he was a  _journalist._  One embarrassing incident was  _not_ going to blow his image permanently.

"I'll be  _fantastic_ by myself, are you kidding? I might actually get some rest without you pawing at me all night."

The noise that followed sounded alarmingly similar to a  _real_  laugh and Akihito looked upwards, thanking whatever cosmic being had blessed Asami with a sense of humor that night.

" _Pawing? Akihito, don't be coy-_ "

"Don't start with me, I'll hang up on you."

" _No you won't."_

The affection in his voice was undeniable and Akihito almost wished he  _would_  continue, because he obviously wasn't getting any tonight and it had been ages since Asami had last taken him apart over the phone... Lost in thought, his hand stopped stirring and the meat hissed warningly, beginning to stick to the bottom of the pan. He cursed and flipped it again, adjusting his phone as it started to slip.

"Yeah, well... Look I'll be fine okay? So just... go to your super villain meeting or whatever."

" _Nothing so interesting, I promise. Mostly paperwork._ "

Akihito grunted, moving the pan off the heat and turning to check on the rice cooker, which had just beeped.

" _My phone will be on, so if you need anything-"_

"Which I  _won't._ "

"- _Then you'll call."_

"Okay, yeah, I will."

There was silence, but it was  _Asami_ silence which was deafening and never failed to press a response from him.

"I  _promise_ , okay?"

" _Good,"_ Asami spoke finally, self-satisfaction evident in his voice. " _I'll see you in the morning then."_

"Yeah... goodnight?"

" _Goodnight, Akihito."_

He hung up quickly so Asami couldn't accuse him of lingering and shoved his phone into his back pocket, stretching to reach the dishes in the over-head cabinet.

}{

Being alone had never bothered Akihito. He'd lived alone from the time he moved out of his parent's house right up until he'd  _met_  Asami. He'd never had a problem being by himself.

Then again, he'd been in his own place, somewhere he'd chosen and paid rent on. It had been small and noisy, with neighbors on all sides and traffic streaming past, headlights ghosting over his walls at all hours of the day. It had never bothered him though; he didn't mind the sounds of life.

The penthouse on the other hand was large and dark and silent the way that luxury always was. It was so different from what he was used to that it would have been easy to blame his disquietude on the change of environment except... it should have been getting better with time, not worse.

The noises started not long after midnight. They weren't frantic and incessant like before, but rather quieter, harder to pick up on. Akihito heard them though, clear as day; small rustlings and creaks that always seemed to be behind or above him.

They were all almost deffinetely normal noises for a building to make. They were all almost deffinetely coming from the vents or the pipes or the hallways.

He almost deffinetely only heard them because he was listening for them.

But then, while drying dishes in the kitchen, Akihito heard ice clinking in a glass from the living room. It was just so normal a noise for that time of night; Asami almost always had a drink in his hand. The fact that Asami wasn't  _there_ failed to register until a few minutes after the fact.

He went to bed as a form of protest, refusing to let his overactive subconscious keep him up all night.

}{

He didn't know what time it was when Asami got home, only that it was late and he was too asleep for the hands that were stroking down his sides, over his hips, tugging him closer from behind. Asami's lips were at his nape and he groaned quietly, turning his face into the pillow, offering his neck and nothing more.

Dozing, he drifted in and out of consciousness without much concern for what was happening; Asami was usually affectionate at night and he didn't mind, so long as he let him sleep. He sighed as an arm slipped around his waist, a hand slid down his thigh. Asami tended to sleep like that; both hands on him as if he might disappear. He settled back against his chest, content.

As things went on though, some portion of his mind began to notice that something was just slightly...  _off._  In his exhaustion, it was hard to pinpoint what exactly was wrong. He was asleep, in bed, with Asami; there was nothing strange or worrisome about that. He tried to brush to feeling off, only to find that he couldn't.

Asami was still kissing him, though he found himself only vaguely aware of it, as if he'd simply stopped paying attention. His brow drew together even as his eyes stayed closed, thinking; when Asami kissed him, no matter how tired he was, it was hard to be only  _vaguely aware._  Usually once Asami got his hands on him, he was  _his_ ; he had this way of making him feel melted _,_ all  _hot and achey and-_

Heat. There was a distinct lack of heat in the kisses and bites that had shifted to the space where his neck and shoulder met. Not a lack of passion, but of actual body-warmth, something that had become inextricably linked with Asami in his mind.

The unfamiliarity of it made him squirm and Asami held him closer, the hand on his thigh beginning to grip. It was tight, uncomfortable even, and Akihito gave another half-hearted fidget, urging him to loosen his cool grasp.

He didn't, and Akihito felt a wave of annoyance wash over him. He was ready to turn, meaning to ask Asami  _what_ exactly his problem was, when he heard the unmistakable click of a key in the front door.

His eyes shot open and he froze, sucking in a breath. The pressure around his waist dissolved and with it went the presence beside him, as easy as mist.

He was alone.

Akihito felt cold sweat break out along the back his neck as he lay there, stunned. His pulse pounded as he listened to the front door closing and footsteps,  _Asami's_ footsteps, moving through the penthouse.

He sat up, shaken and...  _repulsed_ , and began rubbing his hands over his skin where he'd felt that strange, disembodied touch. His thigh where he'd been grabbed was sore and he scrubbed at it harder, trying to will away the sensation or at least replace it with one he understood.

His skin began to ache from his own abuse and Akihito forced his hands to drop, fisting the sheets instead to keep from shaking. Asami would be in any minute and he had to stop, or else he'd know something was wrong.

That thought gave him pause. Was he going to hide this from Asami?

He shook his head, trying to order his thoughts; he wasn't hiding  _anything,_  because the whole incident had to have been a dream. It  _had_  to have been a dream.

He repeated that mantra over and over in his mind as he lay back down, yanking the blankets up over his body. The space beside him felt oddly cool and the sensation churned his stomach. He curled away from it, hands clenched in front of him on the bed.

Eyes closed, he focused on his breathing and willed himself to relax. He could never fake sleep with Asami, but he could fake just waking up if only his pulse would calm. He could feel it pounding in his ears, frenzied with panic. He waited.

When he heard the door open and shut, he stirred, twisting his head to watch as Asami stalked over and sat on the side of the bed that Akihito was crowding. It dipped under his weight and Akihito slid closer without meaning to, pressed against him.

"You'll fall off if you're not careful."

His voice was a low rumble and Akihito nodded absently, staring up at him through the darkness. A warm hand came up to card through his hair and he felt the tension go out of his neck. He'd been holding his head up off the pillow just barely, without even realizing it. Asami touched his throat with the backs of his fingers, gliding his knuckles over the underside of his jaw.

"You weren't asleep."

Akihito opened his mouth to argue but stopped when he felt another tap at his throat. His pulse, he realized. Eyes closed, he shook his head.

"I heard you come home."

Asami seemed to consider this and, before he had time to reach a conclusion, Akihito stretched up and kissed him.

He was straining to reach, balanced on his palms, neck craned almost painfully until Asami kissed him back, licking into his mouth with that strange fire his kiss always possessed, pressing him into the pillow. He cupped Akihito's neck in one in hand and brushed his thumb across the column of his throat, gently, up and down until Akihito swallowed hard from the sensation, gasped and let his mouth fall open. Asami dragged his thumb across his bottom lip, pressed his mouth to his cheek before moving to his ear.

"You're freezing."

Akihito stiffened, glancing away. He  _was_  cold, with goosebumps shivering up and down his arms. Asami didn't let him dwell on it though, gathering him in his arms through the blanket and holding him to his warmth. Akihito wound his arms around his neck and buried his face there, lips brushing the tendon as he spoke.

"Gonna warm me up?"

It was a stupid line but he meant it; he wanted him to chase that strange, pervasive chill out of his body before it took hold of him completely. It felt like frost had settled over his skin and he just needed Asami to dislodge it before it hardened around him.

Asami settled his mouth and nose in Akihito's hair which was messy and tangled from sleep. He breathed deeply, inhaling his scent, and spoke into his temple.

"I need to shower. Lie down and I'll be in in a minute."

That wasn't abnormal. Akihito pillowed his cheek against Asami's shoulder, feeling the roughness of his suit against his skin. If he concentrated, he could smell gunpowder and just a touch of something  _iron._

Blood, most likely.

It had confused Akihito at first, how some nights Asami would come home and be on him in an instant, while others he wouldn't so much as kiss him until he'd bathed. It made sense when he'd started paying attention though, noticing the little things and what they meant.

The dark stains on his fingers were gunpowder, not nicotine. The flecks of  _something_ on his suit were blood. The fewer cigarettes that were left in his carton at the end of the day, the more intricate the operation had been. The more he avoided Akihito afterwords, the less indifferent he'd felt about the individual, good  _or_ bad.

Akihito never asked him why or even let on that he'd noticed; Asami was always quietly adamant about keeping him away from the other half of his life and, while he did his fair share of snooping, he didn't think a head-on confrontation about it would reveal anything he didn't already know.

Asami killed people.

Maybe not as many people as he'd originally guessed and maybe not with as much disregard for human life as he'd originally assumed, but Asami deffinetely killed people, and he did his best to shield Akihito from that fact. There really wasn't any point in it; Akihito already knew and it wasn't like he was going anywhere any time soon. But then again, it might not have been solely for  _his_  benefit.

So he let go of Asami's shoulders and lay back down, closed his eyes as he felt a hand pass over his hair, once, twice, a third time, and then the bed jostled as Asami stood and left, leaving only warmth where he'd been sitting.

}{

The next time Akihito awoke, Asami was still there, tucking his shirt into his pants in front of the large mirror inside the open closet door. Akihito didn't move, just kept his eyes cracked open and watched as he did up his pants, fixed his collar and reached for a tie, pausing for a moment to consider them.

He grinned sleepily.

"If you want, I can call Kirishima to come help you pick one."

Asami slanted him a look through the mirror before selecting a deep burgundy tie, detailed with a dark, swirling pattern.

"That won't be necessary," He replied, stalking over as he looped it around his neck, knotting it perfectly without breaking eye contact.

"Everything in this room is of  _exceptional_  quality." He braced his hands on either side of Akihito's head and leaned down to kiss him, mouth overly minty from having just brushed his teeth. "I really can't go wrong."

They separated and Akihito stared up at him, unimpressed.

"It's too early in the morning for you to be using lines on me."

"It's not a line if it's spontaneous."

He pulled away as Akihito sat up, only moving far enough to keep from colliding. Akihito rolled his eyes at his proximity and scooted backwards to lean against the headboard, sheets pooling in his lap.

"So, what's on the underworld agenda today?"

Asami smirked at him, swiped a hand through his hair which had yet to be styled and kept falling into his eyes.

"Nothing you need to concern yourself with. How's your newspaper route?"

It took Akihito a moment to catch his meaning but when he did, Asami was ready for the punch he threw at his shoulder. He caught him by the wrist and tugged him forward, sending him sprawling across his lap. Akihito, who wasn't quite awake enough to process this turn of events, growled irritably and flipped over onto his back, glaring up at Asami.

"I don't know why I even wake up for you, tomorrow I'm just going to sleep until you leave... what?"

He asked, when Asami failed to respond to his needling. His attention was elsewhere, further down his body, and Akihito followed his gaze, feeling indignant until he saw it.

There was a large, purpling bruise on the outside of his thigh.

He couldn't see all of it because of the way he was laying, but without words Asami propped him up so he could sit, legs curled next to him to take in the entirety of the contusion.

It spread across his thigh like a billowing cloud, dark violet and mottled with yellow. It was startlingly large, and when Asami passed his hand over it, he could barely cover the entire blotch. He traced over it with his fingertips, light and careful.

"This isn't from me."

Akihito stared at the mark, wondering how Asami could even think that that was worth stating. Of course it wasn't from him, it was  _massive_. Asami could get rough, but this went well beyond a slap on the ass or a bite on the shoulder; the bruise on his thigh spoke of  _pain_.

It was exactly where he'd been grabbed last night.

"What happened here?"

Akihito stiffened, mind reeling as he tried to come up with something,  _anything_  believable.

"I uh... I think it's from the other day. I got into it with a bouncer in Kabukicho. I was out back of a club, trying to get a shot of someone and he got rough. I went down some stairs. That was probably it."

His story wasn't entirely untrue except that, in reality, he'd managed to catch himself on the railing before he fell. It was the best he could come up with and he watched Asami, hoping he wouldn't delve too deeply. After all, Akihito spent most of his time covered in cuts and bruises he'd accrued while running around Tokyo; journalism wasn't a desk job.

Asami looked at it a moment longer and then tapped his hip, urging Akihito to sit all the way up so that he could stand.

"It looks like it hurts, you should ice it."

"I know that, I'm not a child."

Asami hummed, unconvinced, and Akihito feigned annoyance, flopping back down into the pillows at the head of the bed. He yanked one over his face and sighed into it, relieved in one sense and horrified in many, many others.

}{

**_AN:_ **

**_Thank you for reading~_ **


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN:
> 
> Hi guys! Thank you so much for all the wonderful reviews for the last chapter, I hope this one lives up to your expectations!

 

}{

_day dreams_

_._

_._

_._

_ wKINNG DREA _

"Shit."

.

.

.

_ w _

_._

_._

_._

_waking dreams_

_._

_._

_._

_unexplained bruising_

_._

_._

_._

Akihito clicked through page after page of articles and entries, scanning for anything that matched what had happened to him. He was sitting in the living room window, one leg stretched out in front of him so that he could balance the ice pack he'd found- already made up and sitting on the counter- on his thigh. He wasn't dressed yet, still wearing only his briefs and a hoody, and the cold was beginning to burn his skin. He shifted the pack irritably, scrolling down through what was so far completely useless information.

Having been only semi-conscious for the majority of what had occurred the previous night, it had been pretty easy to write off as a dream. A vivid, borderline  _hallucinatory_  dream, but still a dream none the less; harmless, with no lasting consequences.

But 'dream' injuries don't carry over into waking life.

He was hoping to find something, anything, that could explain his leg. It had to be some kind of... psychosomatic injury, something that he'd caused himself by focusing so intently on the area. He'd been so aware of it at the time that maybe he'd tricked his body into thinking he'd really been hurt and it had responded accordingly.

This would have been a lot more probable if there were any record of this happening to anyone  _ever_. So far he'd just found a lot about iron deficiencies.

He closed his laptop and leaned his forehead against the window, staring out at the city beneath him.

}{

Some hours later, having gone into his editor's office to drop off a bundle of photos and their summary, Akihito returned to the penthouse to find it freezing. As he stepped inside, the temperature hit him like a wall and he hesitated, resting his hand on the doorframe.

It was late August so the a.c. was supposed to be running, but this was deffinetely not the temperature he had left it at. It was like stepping into an ice box. He blew out a breath and was almost surprised when it didn't fog up in front of him.

He toed off his shoes and dropped his bag on the kitchen table as he passed, heading for the thermostat. It was mounted on the wall just inside the living room, and the small plastic hatch that usually covered the buttons was hanging down, open.

The temperature was set to five degrees Celsius.

Akihito screwed up his face, studying the display. Of course, the apartment was too big to be chilled to that temperature, but it had certainly come close in the time he'd been gone. He turned the unit off completely to give the penthouse time to warm up and made a note to reset it later. It was probably just a fluke, but if it happened again he'd have to talk to maintenance.

His thought was interrupted by a crash and he jumped, whipping his head around to peer back through the kitchen. His bag was on the floor, his belongings strewn haphazardly across the tile.

Akihito stared at it for a moment before making his way over, suddenly wary. He had probably set it too close to the edge of the table and it had been pulled over by it's own weight, but it had startled him all the same. He leaned down and shoved the spilled menagerie back inside before hefting the bag up onto the table to check the rest of its' contents.

His laptop was nestled inside a shock proof case and was no worse for wear but his phone, which he'd stuffed into the front pocket, had a large crack spiderwebbing across the screen. The display came up when he pressed the button, but it was practically unreadable.

He slid his thumb across the screen unconsciously, meaning to bring up his recent messages, and hissed when his skin caught on the uneven glass. A bead of blood welled up and he sucked it into his mouth, wincing at the sting.

}{

The rest of the night was no better.

For once, Akihito found that he was not so much anxious in the quiet, empty apartment, but tired. The shadows held no fear for him, only a strange and heavy gloom.

Normally when he got bored or lonely at home but didn't feel like going out, he'd text Kou or Takato or even  _Asami_  to keep him company. There was something pleasant about hearing his phone buzz while he answered emails or made dinner; it was nice to know he had a message waiting for him. Tonight though, with his phone busted, it was just him and the television.

In addition, the incident with his messenger bag seemed to set off a chain reaction; no matter what he did, accidents befell him. Drawers he would have sworn he'd closed were suddenly open, bruising his ribs as he inadvertently walked into them. Anything he set too close to the edge of the counter seemed to end up on the floor the moment he turned his back. A pot of water, which he'd set to boil only moments before, had suddenly bubbled over onto the stove top. When he'd turned on the tap to rinse a couple of eggplants, the water had come out  _scalding_  and scorched his hand, leaving it red and tender.

In the end, he found himself rushing to finish dinner, something he usually took his time with and  _enjoyed_. He'd never thought of himself as much of a cook but Asami... Asami liked his food, had even told him so. He ate anything Akihito made for him with gratitude and even simple things like chicken and rice seemed to please him immensely. It was gratifying to be able to do something for him, to be the one who's food he loved. Tonight though he just wasn't in the mood; even small set backs and annoyances eventually take their toll.

Feeling tired and a bit dejected, Akihito made up a plate for himself only to realize that he wasn't actually hungry anymore. He stared at the food, irritated more with himself than anything else, before wrapping it up and putting it in the fridge for Asami.

Then he headed for the liquor.

Akihito didn't drink by himself very often, mostly because it just wasn't as much fun. With friends, he could be loud and have a good time; with Asami, he could enjoy himself, free of inhibitions. By himself, well... right now he just needed to relax.

There was a bottle of  _Macallan_ on the top shelf in one of the kitchen cabinets which Akihito had to clamber on top of the counter in order to reach. It was one of Asami's favorites, a single-malt scotch that cost more by the bottle than Akihito made in a week. He hadn't much liked it the first time he'd tried it, sipped from Asami's glass on a whim, but the taste had grown on him in memory and now he found himself craving it.

There were a few brandy snifters in a cabinet in the living room and he retrieved one before heading to the couch, flicking on the television to chase away some of the quiet. It was eleven, and the nightly news was easy to tune out.

Akihito set the glass on it's side the way Asami had taught him and poured until the dark amber liquid reached the rim, barely contained. He righted the bottle and then, unable to resist, nudged the snifter so that it rolled away from him, it's contents shifting but never spilling.

It seemed a bit pretentious but Asami had been pretty adamant that the meager amount he'd poured was all you really needed to enjoy good alcohol. There was something else, about holding the glass from the bottom like a pompous ass so that the heat from your hand warmed the scotch and released 'aromas' or something like that. Akihito tried it for a moment before self consciousness overtook him and he adjusted he grip, holding it around the middle like a mug without a handle, something Asami would probably tease him about if he were there.

He sipped, mindful of the strength that had been overwhelming to him in the past. It was still there but pleasant this time, accompanied by notes of citrus and vanilla, barely recognizable but still somehow present, drifting in the background. It was just slightly warmed from his hand, but the liquor had it's own heat that burned pleasantly down his throat, into his belly. He still coughed after swallowing, but it was soft, more of a clearing of the throat. He kept sipping.

}{

Some hours later, Akihito stirred as the glass he'd been drinking from was taken gently from his hand. His eyes flicked open to take in the darkened room, the muted television and finally Asami, leaning over him, expression warm.

"Since when do you like scotch?"

The question didn't process and Akihito made a confused noise before trying to sit up. He had fallen asleep sideways, bare legs hanging off the edge of the couch, tank top rucked up about his middle. His back felt stiff and he groaned when Asami lifted him by the shoulders, sitting beside him and resettling Akihito's torso in his lap. Akihito drew his legs up behind him and pillowed his cheek against Asami's thigh, mouth dry and head a bit achey. He watched drowsily as Asami leaned forward- one large hand splayed across Akihito's ribs to keep him in place- and poured his own drink from the much depleted bottle, using the glass Akihito had drunk from.

Akihito mumbled something he knew didn't quite make sense but didn't repeat himself until Asami tapped his cheek with an amused 'hmm?'.

"You didn't... put it on it's side..."

Asami's chuckle shook him gently.

"I've poured enough whiskey in my time to do it by sight. You on the other hand..." Fingers threaded into his hair, pressed gently on his temple. "There's not much point in portioning it if you're going to drink half a bottle anyway."

Akihito hummed appreciatively at the welcomed pressure.

"Wasn't planning on it... just kind of happened."

There was quiet as Asami sipped his drink.

"Did you eat?"

Akihito thought for a minute, then shook his head.

"Why not?"

"Weird night, wasn't hungry."

"You shouldn't drink on an empty stomach."

"Did  _you_ eat?"

He could feel the wry smile above him, even if he couldn't see it.

"Not yet, no."

"Then _can_ it _..._ "

They stayed like that well into the early morning hours, Asami finishing his drink, then another. When he finally rose to go to bed Akihito declined to be carried, twisting playfully out of his arms with a laugh and meeting little resistance. He was tired and more than a bit tipsy but something about Asami's attention always seemed to galvanize him. He woke something within him, something fiery and hot that chased away whatever melancholy he'd felt earlier in the night. He wanted more.

He smiled invitingly over his shoulder as Asami followed him down the hallway, only to throw himself off balance and list in the wall, graceless but still somehow gorgeous. Asami caught him up against it and gripped him by the ribs as he leaned down, feral grin sharp against Akihito's cheek when he turned his face away, coy. He felt flushed, nubile, and he must have looked it too because Asami was whispering to him, lips brushing against his ear, teeth nipping at the lobe.

" _You want it here? Right up against the wall? I'll do it. Spread your pretty legs for me, I'll do it._ "

The deep thrum of his voice had Akihito melting, hands sliding up to grip broad shoulders as his nebulous mind struggled with the question. Asami already had him half way up the wall, balanced on the balls of his feet, back arched and straining. If he weren't so carefully supported he would have fallen already.

They had yet to kiss, such was the energy around them. Their mouths were close, their breath mingled, but Akihito was still playing shy and Asami, who liked  _nothing_  more than he liked a challenge, refused to do anything but tease him back. His breathing was heavy though, his hands rough in their desire.

_He wants me_

It was a thought Akihito had had many times before but it still struck him like a punch to the gut, making him shiver in the best way.

"Not here... bed."

It took effort to keep his voice steady, especially when finally  _finally_ Asami kissed him, only once and to the side of his mouth, more urging than anything else. It had been  _too long_  to waste all their pent up energies on some quick thing out in the hallway. He'd had too many nightmares this week- too many  _shitty_  nights alone in the dark- to give up a chance at not sleeping until morning.

Asami groaned and relinquished his grip on Akihito's ribs, dragging his hands down to hold the backs of his thighs. He hefted him up, leaning backwards so that Akihito fell into him, arms wrapped around his neck for balance and thighs tight against his waist. Akihito felt a kiss at his neck and sighed, relaxing into the body that supported him.

By the time they reached the bedroom Akihito's eyes were closed and Asami held  _all_ his attention, body and mind. So if the shadows in the room were a little too dark, if they shivered out of place when Asami drew too near, he didn't take notice.

}{

_He's in a tunnel._

_It's dark, twisting, unending and if he doesn't find a way out, he's going to die._

_Hanae is dead._

_Akiko is dead._

_Their deaths are his fault and he knows it._

_Their blood is on him figuratively._

_Their blood is on him literally._

_He hates the man who did this. He hates himself too._

_He's taken a wrong turn. If he goes back the way he came, he's going to die._

_He can't remember the path he'd designed for this tunnel._

_He can't remember the path he'd designed for his life._

_There's shouting behind him,_

_laughter_

_he hates them he_

_hates t hem he hatesthemhatesthem_

_Loud bang and he stops running because he's falling, because theres a hole in his leg, because his blood is mixing with Hanae's, with Akiko's._

_They haven't killed him yet but they're going to._

_They're grabbing at him, laughing underlings, forcing him onto his knees._

_They're going to execute him._

_He twists sharply, drawing on the strength of a hate he'd never felt before, determined to free himself, to survive, to find revenge, to_ -

Akihito's eyes flicked open as his mind awoke from the dream.

He was alone in bed, prone on his back, his arms at his sides and the blankets strewn about as if he'd been tossing. He tried to sit up, only to find that he couldn't move.

His entire body felt heavy and numb, like it could sink through the bed if he wasn't careful. It was a struggle to keep his eyes open but he fought for it anyway, blinking away the urge to fall back asleep. He was heavily disoriented, but his mind burned with irrational conviction that, were he to fall back asleep, something horrible would happen.

Slowly, he became aware of a noise like nothing he had ever heard before, blaring over and over in strange succession. It was like some terrible droning siren that warned of impending disaster and it made him sick with anxiety. As he listened, it deteriorated, the individual soundbites blurring into one another until all the was left was static, deafening and overwhelming. He body seemed to vibrate with the force of the noise and the more he struggled against it, the heavier his body felt, as if he might never move again.

Shadows seemed to be gathering in the edges of his vision and he feared a total blackout. It was stupid to scream but he tried anyway and was despondent when he couldn't produce so much as a whimper. His voice died in his throat as he thrashed internally, body motionless.

His eyes were darting constantly now, frantically, unsure of what to do. Each time he looked away from a spot, the darkness there seemed to coagulate into something solid that disappeared as soon as he looked back. Slowly though, some black and massive form manifested in the far corner of the room, silent and festering, and when he forced himself to look away, it neither disappeared nor stayed put; it drew closer.

It was tall and looming, faceless and almost formless aside from the hint of shoulders, a neck, a head. It flickered under his watch, the darkness roiling to keep shape, and every time his gaze wavered it crept closer, appearing to float motionlessly across the floor.

Hypnotized, Akihito watched in disbelief for what felt like minutes but was probably a much shorter span of time; seconds, fractions maybe. Terror had been slowly building within his body, fizzing through him, capped only by his inability to move. Now he was reaching his breaking point and, too horrified to accept his own paralysis, he struggled again, harder than before, writhing as if it would be better to tear free of his own body than remain trapped in it.

Then it was over him, above him, and as it reached for him his face twisted and finally,  _finally_  a scream ripped through his throat, painful and hoarse.

With that scream, the strange spell was broken and the figure dispersed as if it had never been there at all. He lurched upright with another yell, unbidden this time but uncontrollable. Then, as if his body was catching up with all his desperate attempts to move, he twisted violently and pitched himself out of bed, shaking and heaving, just as the bedroom door flew open.

Akihito stumbled sideways into the nearest wall and held himself up against it. He was struggling for air, like he'd been swimming underwater for a long time, and his lungs couldn't keep up with his need for oxygen.

The ringing in his ears was deafening but through he could hear shouting and then Asami was in front of him, grabbing his arms, easing him down to sit on the floor. His breathing wasn't coming any easier and he had to fight for it but Asami had his face in his hands, forcing him to look at him.

"-need to stop. You're hyperventilating, if you keep this up you're going to pass out."

Akihito nodded roughly because he  _knew_ that and if he could stop he would but it just wasn't happening. His chest was beginning to hurt and he grabbed Asami's arm, squeezing his panic.

Asami didn't say anything but there was concentration in his face and that was reassuring in itself. He pulled Akihito towards him and turned him around, sitting him in his lap like a child, back pulled flush against his chest. He wrapped his arms around his middle and spoke into his ear, voice as calm as ever.

"Focus. Can you feel me breathing? Match it. Breath with me."

Akihito could feel them, Asami's inhales and exhales. They were deep and slow against his back, the rise and fall of Asami's chest exaggerated so that there was no chance of him missing it. He closed his eyes and struggled to copy his rhythm, but his lungs faltered and skipped. Asami didn't worry though, just keep murmuring in his ear, calm things he could barely comprehend. He was doing fine. Asami had him and he was doing fine.

It was a long time before Akihito didn't feel like he was suffocating any more. He was leaning back against Asami, head nestled beneath his chin, eyes closed and still a little dizzy. He felt drowsy; Asami had taken up a faint rocking motion, swaying him gently back and forth, barely moving. His arms were still wrapped around his middle and Akihito stared past them at his legs, which were stretched out and bent at the knees. Sunlight fell in a slash from the part in the heavy curtains. He could still see the bruise on his thigh. He was _so tired_.

"Don't fall asleep."

Asami's voice was gentle but firm, grounding him in the moment. There was a sense of urgency in it but it was subtle and undemanding.

"I'm not..."

He felt Asami nod against the top of his head, chin resting on his crown.

"Are you ready to stand up?"

Akihito thought about the question before grunting his assent. He strained to sit up properly, pulling his feet under him to stand. Asami kept a hand on him, staying slightly beneath him in case he wobbled. Akihito made sure he didn't.

As soon as he was on his feet and stable, Asami immediately reached to the floor beside him and Akihito followed with his eyes as he grabbed his Beretta and tucked it securely back into his shoulder holster. He hadn't even noticed Asami holding it.

Catching his stare, Asami's hand came up to touch his face, reassuring.

"You were screaming, I didn't know what I was walking into."

Akihito could only nod, dazedly. He remembered screaming. He remembered why he had been screaming. His whole body was numb though and he felt detached from the memories, as if they were scenes from a movie he'd just watched. He didn't protest, barely noticed when Asami had to practically lift him into bed, settling him on top of the blankets, back against the pillows. His face was still serious, but Akihito could feel concern rippling beneath the surface. Large warm hands came up to hold his face again and he let them, unconcerned with being coddled. He was too out of it to resist.

"Don't go into shock."

Another time, Akihito might have laughed at the futility of the statement. Maybe the was Asami's goal, to make him laugh. Either way, he only nodded. Asami's hands moved down his neck, over his shoulders. They rubbed up and down his arms where he could feel goosebumps forming and he sighed at the warmth that bloomed there. Asami never took his eyes off of his face, studying him like he was solving an equation.

"Say something."

Akihito thought. He thought harder than he'd had to think about anything in the last week. Finally-

"What time is it?"

It came out shaky and hoarse but Asami looked about as relieved as Akihito had ever seen him, like he'd been waiting for 'where am I' or 'who are you' or maybe just more silence.

"A little after two. You were out like the dead this morning so I thought I'd come check on you."

Akihito nodded. It was easier than finding words.

"What happened?"

What Akihito meant to do was say that he wasn't sure, but it was probably a dream and he was fine, just very shaken.

What he actually did was cry.

It was bizarre, because he didn't actually feel like crying. He wasn't scared at the moment, he felt safe and secure and  _relieved._ It was like his emotions were on a time delay though; the fear and horror he'd felt early were just now working their way out.

Asami's face was puzzled even as he wiped tears from Akihito's cheeks. He didn't press for answers, but Akihito tried to come up with them anyway.

"It was like a dream but... I was awake, I know I was awake." He sniffed deeply and Asami leaned away, retrieving a box of tissues from the night stand which Akihito gratefully accepted, dabbing at his cheeks and nose. Suddenly, he remember what had really set him off. He caught Asami's gaze, eyes wide but fierce in their assurance.

"Asami I couldn't  _move_."

He cringed at himself; he sounded almost hysterical and he could only imagine how he looked. Asami didn't seem put off though; he was listening rather intently, brow creased like he was solving an equation.

"Akihito... were you on your back?"

"What?"

For a moment, it sounded a bit like an innuendo and Akihito was caught off guard. But Asami was serious, the smirk that usually went along with his perverse humor conspicuously absent.

"Were you lying on your back when you couldn't move."

"I... yes?"

"Stay put."

Without another word Asami stood and walked out of the room, leaving Akihito to stare after him, too exhausted to ask what he was doing. He returned seconds later, carrying his own laptop.

He sat beside Akihito once more, typing efficiently on the device before clicking something and handing it over to Akihito who took it, confused.

_**Sleep Paralysis** _

_From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia_

_Sleep paralysis is a phenomenon in which a person, either when falling asleep or awakening, temporarily experiences an inability to move. It is a transitional state between wakefulness and sleep characterized by complete muscle atonia (muscle weakness). It is often associated with terrifying visions, such as an intruder in the room, to which one is unable to react due to paralysis, from which the term "nightmare" is derived._

**_}{_ **

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: IMPORTANT~
> 
> And we're done!
> 
> I know that's kind of a tricky place to stop this chapter but that's what we're going with.
> 
> For any of you unfamiliar with sleep paralysis I suggest you check out the wikipedia ( http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep_paralysis ) Akihito's experience in this chapter is based off of my own experience with sleep paralysis. It only occurred once, while I was very stressed and over-tired, but I can assure you it's not pleasant. As for whether or not that's what actually HAPPENED to Akihito, well, you'll just have to wait to find out.
> 
> On another note, there is a pretty interesting game called Entity which I believe is based off of sleep paralysis. It has a cool design and soundtrack so if you'd like to play (it's free) then here's the link:
> 
> http://entity.palebits.com/
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys enjoyed this chapter. Let me know what you think and I'll try to have the next one out in a timely fashion!
> 
> Thank you,
> 
> Bella


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: Hi Guys!
> 
> First off, I can't apologies enough for how long this chapter has taken. As I'm sure I've mentioned, I'm working full time right now and that leaves me very little time for writing. 
> 
> Also, THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR ALL THE WONDERFUL REVIEWS! THEY'RE THE ONLY REASON THIS CHAPTER IS EVEN UP!!
> 
> You guys consistently inspire me to keep going and, even if I don't get a chance to respond, I want you to know I read ALL of them and they mean the world. I'll work harder to respond to everyone from now on!
> 
> Anyway, from here on, I have a pretty clear idea of where the story is going so hopefully it won't be quite as long before my next chapter is out. 
> 
> Either way, please enjoy and review~~

**_Sleep Paralysis_ **

 

_From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia_

 

**_Sleep paralysis is a phenomenon in which a person, either when falling_ ** [ **_asleep_ ** ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sleep) **_or awakening, temporarily experiences an inability to move. It is a transitional state between wakefulness and sleep characterized by complete muscle_ ** [ **_atonia_ ** ](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Atonia) **_(muscle weakness). It is often associated with terrifying visions, such as an intruder in the room, to which one is unable to react due to paralysis, from which the term "nightmare" is derived._ **

 

“It doesn’t talk about it here but it can be triggered by sleeping on your back.”

 

Akihito stared at the words on the screen of the laptop, taking them in. Asami had known without him mentioning even _half_ of the things he’d experienced which meant...

 

“Have you..?”

 

Asami nodded.

 

“When I was... a bit younger than you are actually. They passed eventually.”

 

“Oh...”

 

It was hard to imagine Asami experiencing something like that; helplessness didn’t fit into the persona he so often put on for Akihito. He was almost surprised Asami had told him at all. 

 

“They come from stress. Anxiety.”

 

Akihito glanced up, noting the inquiry in his voice. Asami was watching him carefully, the way he did when he wasn’t sure which direction his mood was swinging. Akihito wasn’t quite sure himself.

 

“I don’t _feel_ stressed...”

 

Except, come to think of it, hadn’t he just spent the last few weeks holding his breath in his own apartment? Hadn’t he scoured the internet for an explanation for his mysterious bruise, desperate for an answer? Asami was no fool, and better at reading him than Akihito liked to give him credit for.

 

“I’m... it’s really nothing. I know it’s nothing.”

 

“What’s nothing?”

 

Akihito was stricken, unable to find the words that would explain his situation. No matter what he said he would sound crazy or worse- _needy_. Asami wouldn’t let him off though, leaning over him like if he focused hard enough he could pull the answer strait out of his mind. Maybe he could, Akihito thought. It would certainly have made things easier.

 

“I feel... When you’re not here I...” 

 

He stopped, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath.

 

“I hate being here by myself.”

 

When he opened his eyes Asami looked even more confused than he had before. 

 

“I was under the impression that you _preferred_ having the place to yourself.”

 

“I _did_. At least for the most part.”

 

It was true that when he’d first started living with Asami, his many hours of privacy had been a godsend. They afforded him the time and the solitude to think through his situation and get comfortable with it. Now though, with the creeping sense of some other... presence? Every night was turning into a test of his nerve.

 

Asami very pointedly took the laptop, setting it at the bottom of the bed and moving even farther into Akihito’s space. He didn’t lean away, unbothered by the closeness. 

 

“What changed?”

 

Akihito didn’t say anything, thinking deeply about how much he wanted to reveal. Asami took his silence as nervousness, or maybe just cluelessness. He brought his hands up, thumbed at the space beneath his eyes where the skin was tender and violet.

 

“You haven’t been sleeping.”

 

“No... ”

 

Asami sighed, barely audible.

 

“Do you feel unsafe here?”

 

He sounded almost _sad_ , and Akihito didn’t really get it. 

 

“Sometimes, not really... I can’t explain it. It’s like, I know nothing’s actually wrong, I know there’s no one else here but...”

 

“But your gut keeps telling you there is.”

 

Akihito nodded, silent. He watched Asami intently, trying to figure out what direction he would take that.

 

“I think...”

 

_You’re over-reacting, you’re tired, you have PTSD, you need to see a therapist._

 

“Considering everything you’ve been through in the last year, it would be odd if you weren’t experiencing some form of anxiety.”

 

Stupidly, Akihito’s mind went strait to Sakazaki, to his indiscretion. That wasn’t what Asami meant though; he meant the stalker, he meant China, he meant a plethora of other things that weren’t actually his fault. Things Akihito hadn’t given thought to in months. He nodded anyway.

 

“I guess.”

 

“I know. Undoubtedly. You’ve acclimated to being under a certain level of stress as a way to survive. You’re no longer in immediate danger, but your subconscious hasn’t quite caught up.”

 

That... made sense. A lot of sense. Or maybe it was just because Asami sounded so certain, so sure that everything was okay. 

 

“You think it’ll level out?”

 

“Yes.”

 

No explanation, no details, just certainty.

 

“...Okay.”

 

That was apparently not the right answer because Asami put a hand on his chest and very firmly pushed him back into the bank of pillows. That hand then reached up and grabbed him under the jaw, very gently, fingertips pressing into his cheeks.

 

“In the meantime, I need you to remember that this is the safest place for you. Always. No matter what. There are more people in this building ready to lay down their lives for you than there are actual residents.”

 

“Oh...”

 

On some level he knew that, but the concept of Asami’s employees _dying_ for him had never sat right, even if that was their job. The older man continued, lips barely a hair’s breadth from his own.

 

“If the paralysis happens again, you’ll recognize it. I promise. Once you know what it feels like it’s easy to get through it.”

 

“Why did you..?”

 

Asami tensed and he trailed off, wondering if he was overstepping somehow. He never used to worry about things like that; after all, Asami wasn’t exactly _shy_ about telling him to piss off- although maybe not quite in those words. Now, as Asami offered him more and more information, he felt less worthy of it. Asami opened up to him slowly, out of trust alone, and he wasn’t quite sure he deserved it anymore. 

 

Asami took his apprehension for insult and sighed, touching their foreheads together.

 

“I was just starting out-”

 

“Like as a gangster?”

 

He pulled away and gave him that wry little half grin that Akihito couldn’t help but return.

 

“University. Not everyone is born a delinquent.”

 

“So you grew into it?”

 

“Against my father’s best efforts, yes.”

 

He said it so casually, as if he’d ever so much as _mentioned_ ****his family before. Akihito practically held his breath, smart comments held at bay in hopes he’d continue in that direction. He didn’t.

 

“I was expected to perform extremely well, which I did, but I... had some difficulties handling the pressure.

 

That was obviously all he planned to say on the subject. Akihito didn’t question him further.

 

It was reassuring to know that he wasn’t crazy, at least in regards to the last twenty minutes or so. He was willing to put the rest of it out of his head for now, Asami’s explanation enough to convince him that he had a clean slate; now that he was certain it was in his head, nothing else would happen. 

 

Wishful thinking at it’s finest.

 

}{

 

A week later, Akihito had decided that if this really was all in his head, there was definitely something wrong with him. It was like a violent case of separation anxiety; Asami left and all hell broke loose. Now it went beyond bumps and footsteps; he was catching snippets of full on conversations from Asami’s office, deep rumbling laughter from the living room, all just loud enough to send him bursting into the room, desperate to find some source, only to be met with silence.

 

And the passage, oh _God_ he was obsessed with the escape passage. 

 

He had reopened it twice since his first encounter with it, camera in hand, hoping to capture that strange fathomless darkness. It refused to replicate itself, each time appearing exactly as it should have. He took pictures anyway, with flash and without. He never developed them though; he was doing most of his work at the office now, spending as little time at home as possible, and his publishers weren’t big on their photographers using company equipment for personal projects. Still, he felt the compulsion.

 

He also felt compelled to _enter_ the passage, almost overwhelmingly so. Unnaturally so. He resisted, barely.

 

He was doing his best, really he was. Asami was practically babysitting him at this point, coming home at the oddest hours and just kind of _watching_ him, like he might explode at any moment. It would have been irritating if it wasn’t Akihito’s _only_ break from the bad horror movie that his life had become. He tried to make sure Asami never walked in on him agitated which was surprisingly easy because, as soon as the other man’s key clicked in the front door, all anomalous happenings would suddenly cease. The clock struck midnight, the stagecoach turned back into pumpkin, and Akihito was staring at a shadow that didn’t exist anymore. He might have considered the implications of that a little more carefully if he weren’t always so relieved. 

 

Asami was still King of the Underworld though, or whatever the hell he thought he was, and that meant he couldn’t always be there, no matter how much he wanted to be. Akihito didn’t _want_ him to always be there, no matter how much easier it would have made things; whatever was happening, he could handle it on his own. 

 

That was the mantra he repeated to himself as he showered, closing his eyes briefly to rinse the shampoo out of his hair. It was deep purple, to help preserve his unnatural hair color, and smelled lushly floral. Asami had once commented that it smelled that way because it was meant for women. Akihito had replied that if he didn’t like it, he could keep his hands the fuck out of his hair. Asami must have liked it.

 

He was in their shared bathroom, the one with the huge shower that he loved. The tile felt like natural stone beneath his feet and the glass kept all the steam trapped inside like a sauna. The water pressure was amazing, and it was easy to get lost in the sound of droplets ricocheting off the walls. 

 

Relaxed, Akihito lathered soap onto a washcloth and set about scrubbing off the dirt and sweat of the day. He took his time, leaning against the wall. He was exhausted, his sleep over the last few days having come in fits and bursts, and the heat was proving to be soporific. 

 

He didn’t realize how zoned out he was until he dropped the washcloth. It hit the tile with a resounding smack and Akihito was startled out of his inattention, breath quickened until he realized that _he_ had made the noise this time. Relief washed over him, dissipating just as quickly as he realized the water was running cold. 

 

More annoyed than anything, Akihito turned off the taps. He couldn’t remember ever having run out of hot water in the penthouse. He stood for a moment, shaking off the water and wringing out his hair before moving to open the shower door.

 

It was jammed.

 

Groaning, Akihito jiggled the door, stopping when the glass rattled alarmingly in its frame. It was only a magnet, how could it be stuck? He pushed, leaning all of his weight into it. It didn’t budge.

 

He took a step backwards, only to have his back his the tile. The shower seemed much smaller now that he couldn’t get out. He felt almost claustrophobic, looking up at the opening at the top. Could he climb over it maybe-

 

A shadow passed outside the fogged glass, so quickly he might have imagined it, and Akihito’s gaze shot back down to the door. It was far too cloudy to see clearly, but he could make out the layout of the bathroom, the counter, the sink. He watched carefully for a moment, held his breath and waited.

 

After a minute, he realized he still heard breathing.

 

It was low, rasping, but it was definitely there and it made his skin crawl. Shaking, Akihito pressed his hand to the glass and wiped, wincing as he imagined what he might see. Instead, the glass stayed murky, his gesture leaving not so much as a streak. The breathing continued.

 

Frantically, he scrubbed his hand against the glass but it made no difference. He couldn’t see out, couldn’t get out. He was completely trapped. 

 

Mind reeling, Akihito barely took notice when the first line formed. It was the wet squeak that caught his attention, the sound his hand _should_ have made when he’d passed it over the glass. It was coming from right in front of him, just above his line of vision. 

 

_Something_ was tracing on the glass, slowly, shakily, but tracing nonetheless. Akihito watched in horrified awe as line after careful line was formed, slowing revealing characters so faint that Akihito had to strain to read them.

 

 

_W_

 

_H_

 

 

_O_

 

 

_R_

_E_  

 

 

He jerked backwards, mouth open in soundless shock and there was that laugh again, just on the edge of his hearing, mocking. Something nasty took root in Akihito’s mind in that moment and suddenly he was more angry than afraid. Angry and guilty and hot faced with _shame_. Without thought he surged forward, grabbing the handle of the door only to remember too late that it was stuck. He crashed through the glass and landed twisted on the floor amongst it’s shatter. The laughter was louder now and he could feel shards of glass embedded in his back and side. His face stung with cuts and he could _smell_ blood, oh god he could feel it pooling under him and-

 

“I’m home.”

Akihito gasped, holding his breath on the intake as the reality around him fizzled and warped. He was standing in the shower, water off, nearly _dry._ Fraught, his hands searched over his chest, his shoulders, his back, feeling for any evidence of the searing pain he’d felt only seconds ago. There was no blood, no cuts. The shower door in front of him was intact and long free of steam. 

 

“Akihito?”

 

_Shit_

 

“ _I’m in the-the shower!_ ”

 

Asami’s voice was muffled, coming from the entry way most likely. They’d both gotten in the habit of greeting one another and now Akihito was thankful for it. Shaking, he reached for the door handle, wincing as he tested it.

 

It opened easily.

 

Feeling like a deer in headlights, Akihito gingerly stepped out, looking around as if the walls might close in on him at any moment. He was so confused, his head pounding with each beat of his heart, and his eyes stung hot with frustrated tears. He jumped when he heard the faint beep of the microwave and cursed, sniffing harshly and blinking the tears away. If he took too long, Asami would know something was wrong.

 

He threw on boxers and a tank and ran his fingers through his hair, flinching as they caught in tangles. His hair always knotted if he let it dry without combing through it. How the fuck had it had time to dry? He shook his head, glancing at himself in the mirror, making sure he didn’t look as petrified as he felt; Asami could smell fear a mile away. 

 

He padded through their bedroom, carefully gauging his gait so as not to seem desperate. Asami was home for the night which meant there was no reason to panic. Nothing _ever_ happened when Asami was home. Ever. 

 

He continued to repeat that to himself even as stepped into the kitchen, heart _sinking_ when he saw Asami’s briefcase sitting by the door. The man himself stood at the kitchen counter, hastily eating whatever leftovers Akihito had stowed in the fridge for him. He hadn’t even taken off his suit jacket.

 

_He’s not staying_.

 

Irrationally, the first emotion that bubbled into Akihito’s frayed consciousness was betrayal because it was _a quarter past midnight why the hell was he going back to the office?_ He kept his face carefully bored though, sauntering over to lean beside him at the counter.

 

“You’ll get fat from eating that fast. And this late, come to think of it.”

 

Asami raised an eyebrow, wordlessly communicating his lack of concern. Still, He set his bowl down and stepped back, making just enough space to guide Akihito- feigning reluctance- between himself and the counter. 

 

Pressed close, caged in by those arms, it was hard to pretend that nothing was wrong. Asami was giving him that look again, overly analytical but still somehow adoring. He wanted to spill his guts, tell him everything that had just happened and get a neat little explanation of why that didn’t make him crazy. Asami had already given him that though, days ago. To ask again would mean admitting he was unsure of his own sanity. It wasn’t an option.

 

So he steeled his nerves and kissed Asami, like he always did, and let Asami sit him up on the counter, right on the edge so his toes could barely touch the floor. Thighs spread, back arched, it should have felt erotic, but as it was Akihito took more comfort from it that anything else. It must have been obvious, because Asami pulled away and caught Akihito’s face up between his hands, cupping it carefully.

 

“I only stopped to eat, I have a conference call in an hour.”

 

“It’s midnight.”

 

“Mid-morning in New York.”

 

Akihito sighed petulantly, shaking off Asami’s hands so he could lean his head onto his shoulder. The taller man picked him back up, unimpressed.

 

“What’s the matter?”

 

“Nothing.”

 

His answer came a little too short, a little too quick. It didn’t matter though, because for once, Asami completely misread his pettishness, taking it for coy desire. He smirked down at Akihito, all possession and self-satisfaction.

 

“I won’t be long, you can wait can’t you?”

 

_No..._

 

“I...”

 

He drew a blank, unable to come up with anything remotely enticing. It didn’t matter; Asami was leaving one way or another unless he strait up _asked_ him to stay, which was not happening. He was just going to have to stick it out another hour.

 

 But in his hesitation, free of his telltale blush or indignation, Asami called his bluff.

 

“You can’t sleep.”

 

That was almost true. Now he was practically afraid to sleep without Asami; too much could happen when he was alone and unaware. Better to be awake and miserable and _in control_ than asleep and at the mercy of his own subconscious.

 

“I’m fine.”

 

Asami sighed above him, clearly not convinced. He brought his fingers up to card through Akihito’s hair and when they caught in the tangles, Asami gently worked through them, unperturbed.

 

“You can’t do this.”

 

“I’m not _doing_ anything, I said I was fine.”

 

“ _Akihito_.”

 

Akihito groaned, frustrated, and nudged Asami away so he could get down. He felt like a child being scolded for staying up past their bedtime. Asami turned as he passed, touching his arm, neither grabbing nor impeding.

 

“Akihito over exhaustion is going to make it worse. It’s a vicious cycle.”

 

He was right, as always, but still Akihito dreaded the night to come. He fought the scowl his face was harboring.

 

“I know, I know, go to work, I’m fine.”

 

Asami didn’t budge. 

 

“Will you sleep?”

 

“ _Yes.”_

 

He hated to sound of his own voice. He felt whiny, self-indulgent. Asami didn’t seem to notice. Instead, he looked unbearably fond.

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

“Fuck if I care.”

 

_That_ pulled a laugh out of him, a rare, true laugh that made Akihito smile just a little, despite it all. Then-

 

“It’s beautiful out, go throw something on and take a ride with me. You’ll sleep better.”

 

Akihito froze, processing what Asami had just said.

 

“You want me to come to your office?”

 

“I won’t be long.”

 

Asami spoke as if that was somehow an answer to his question. He turned to wash up his dish while Akihito stared, feeling desperately relieved and trying not to show it. 

 

}{

 

Outside, the night was muggy and warm, the sky clear aside from the light pollution, which lent it a milky cast. Akihito inhaled deeply, catching the sweet musk from the greenery planted all about the buildings entrance. 

 

Asami walked him to the car, opening the passenger side door and getting him settled before closing it and getting in on the driver’s side. It was a bit surreal; Asami so rarely drove him anywhere. Typically if they went out together, it was in the back of the limo, Akihito tucked right up into Asami’s side. This was nice though; Asami was an excellent driver, sure and steady behind the wheel as Akihito dozed beside him, languid. The windows were down for the breeze, the radio on low. Asami’s strong hand came to rest on his thigh in between turns, firm and soothing. By the time they reached the _Sion_ building, Akihito was half asleep. 

 

He let Asami help him out of the car, too content to protest. He absolutely refused the arm the was offered though, unsure if Asami was joking or not.

 

The offices were deserted, save for a few faces Akihito vaguely recognized. They were wrapping up for the night, packing up laptops and documents, shuffling out of Asami’s way instinctively, as if he had an invisible bubble around him.

 

Six floors up, there was a small lobby and beyond that, Asami’s personal office. There was a plush couch that Akihito immediately plopped down onto.

 

“Try to stay put.”

 

“Where am I gonna go?”

 

The look Asami gave him said ‘I could think of some places’, but instead of voicing this, he dropped his hand lightly on to Akihito’s hair, mussing it as he turned and left.

 

Akihito settled in, eyeing the heavy oak door as it closed before him. 

 

It wasn’t two minutes later that Kirishima appeared, looking impeccable as ever, if a bit worn down. He seemed to completely overlook Akihito as he brushed past him and into to the office. It was only on his way out that he paused, mild surprise gracing his features.

 

“Takaba-san.”

 

It wasn’t overly warm, but he didn’t seem irritated by the sight of him either. He looked him up and down and Akihito straitened up a little, suddenly self-conscious.

 

“Hi... You’re here late.”

 

“Such is the job.”

 

Akihito didn’t really know what to say to that, but it didn’t seem like Kirishima was done with him. He was giving him the same look that Asami had been subjecting him to lately, overly-analytical and a bit concerned.

 

“I take it you’re waiting for Asami-sama?”

 

Akihito nodded tiredly. The secretary shifted, almost uncomfortably, and checked his watch.

 

“He may be a while, would you like a ride home?”

 

“No.” He spoke a bit too quickly, then corrected himself. “I uh... I came with him. From home. I knew I would be waiting.”

 

Kirishima looked at him oddly and then recognition crossed his features.

 

“How are you feeling?”

 

Irritation fizzed through Akihito.

 

“Why, what did he say to you?”

 

_-That you’re coming unhinged, that you have nightmares like a child, that you can’t stand to be alone-_

 

“Only that you haven’t been sleeping well.”

 

“Oh...”

 

If Kirishima was offended by his attitude, he didn’t show it. Still, Akihito should have known better; Kirishima was discreet to a fault and if Asami had said something he wouldn’t want him to hear, the secretary would never have let slip. 

 

There was silence between them, uncomfortable and foreign. Kirishima sniffed, adjusting the paperwork he held in his arms.

 

“I find Chamomile to be an effective somnolent.”

 

Akihito almost rolled his eyes, forgetting Kirishima truly believed he was just an insomniac. Instead, he forced a smile.

 

“Thanks, I’ll have to try that.”

 

“I was going to make some now, if you’d like.”

 

It took Akihito a moment to catch on, not expecting the offer. 

 

“Oh um...” He glanced at the door to Asami’s office. It was sound proofed, and he had no idea what point his little meeting thing was at. A cup of tea sounded good though, and he supposed he couldn’t get into any real trouble with Kirishima of all people.

 

“Yeah, that would be nice actually.”

 

Without a word Kirishima turned and stalked away, Akihito scrambling up to follow him.

 

It was more than a little strange to follow the other man down the hall and into the little kitchenette. Normally, when it was just the two of them, there was some kind of danger involved; Kirishima was usually dragging him out of oncoming traffic or scaring off petty gangsters or taking _bullets_ for him. Never anything so mundane as making him a cup of tea.

 

In truth though, Kirishima was always attentive to him. Most likely, it was because he was paid to be, but Akihito suspected otherwise. It was part of his natural personality to care for others. Maybe that was why Asami relied on him so much; it made him dependable. 

 

Deftly, Kirishima set about filling a kettle and setting it to boil, moving around the small space with ease. Akihito sat on the very edge of a chair at one of the tables, feeling out of place. He wondered if Asami ever ate in there and then shook the thought away.

 

Kirishima turned towards him suddenly, opening his mouth as if to speak. He started to point towards the refrigerator then aborted the gesture.

 

“What, what’s wrong?”

 

Kirishima reached into an overhead cabinet to retrieve a tea tin and two mugs.

 

“I was going to say we ordered lunch this afternoon and there might be some left, but I sincerely doubt Asami-sama would appreciate me feeding you leftovers. However if you’d like to _order_ something _-”_

 

“ _No_... thank you, I’m not really hungry. And anyway Asami wouldn’t care.”

 

Kirishima gave him a look that suggested otherwise.

 

The beep of the electric kettle was piercing in the silence. Kirishima poured them both a cup, setting Akihito’s down in front of him before sitting down across from him, spreading out his paperwork and immediately ending all interaction. That was fine by Akihito. He steeped his tea contentedly, listening to the rustle of papers as he sipped it, waiting for it to cool.

 

Akihito lost track of exactly how much time had passed before Asami found them. There was only a strong, murky mouthful of tea left in his mug and he tossed it back as Asami strode into the room, eyes skipping right over him.

 

“Kirishima I- Ah.”

 

He ended his sentence as he took notice of Akihito at the other side of the table, looking vaguely confused.

 

“I see you’ve already found him.”

 

“Was I missing?”

 

He stood and walked his mug over to the sinking, rinsing it thoroughly before setting it to dry. Asami eyed him the whole way.

 

“I recall telling you to stay put.”

 

Akihito rolled his eyes.

 

“Kirishima made me tea.”

 

The secretary had stood at Asami’s entrance and now he turned fully towards him, bowing ever so slightly.

 

“Apologies, Asami-sama. I wasn’t sure how long you would be and I thought if I kept Takaba-san occupied he’d be less likely to wander off.”

 

Akihito screwed up his face; of course he’d had an ulterior motive. When he looked at Kirishima though, something in his face appeared... put on. Not entirely sincere. His glance back at Akihito clinched it; he was placating Asami. Why though?

 

Asami’s face was as blank as a slab of marble.

 

“No apology is necessary. I’ll take him from here though, I’m sure you have work to finish.”

 

“Of course, Asami-sama.”

 

Eyes darting between the two, Akihito could feel an entirely unfamiliar tension. He didn’t have time to dwell on it though, because Asami was already ushering him out.

 

He tossed one final look over his shoulder and mouthed his ‘thank you’. Kirishima looked thoughtfully after him, but turned away without any response. Akihito rolled his eyes; so much for camaraderie. 

 

He was asleep by the time they got home, stirring only when Asami lifted him out of the BMW, holding him carefully to his chest.

 

“... can walk.”

 

“I’m sure you can.”

 

He made no move to set him down though and Akihito smiled drowsily into his neck. He barely felt it as Asami entered the building and stepped into the elevator.

 

“I take it you’re ready to sleep now?”

 

Akihito nodded, feeling dreamy and weightless as they ascended through the building.

 

“Good.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading, don't forget to let me know what you think!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! 
> 
> Sorry for the long wait but I tried to give you an extra long chapter to make up for it, just in time for Halloween too~
> 
> This chapter doesn't have any scares in it really, just a lot of plot set up, more Kirishima/Akihito interaction (i'm sorry I love it) and some explanations. Hopefully you're not too bored, I promise there'll be more action soon ;-;
> 
> As always, thank you for all of the wonderful reviews, I don't always get a chance to reply to all of them, but they are deffinetely what keeps me updating regularly !
> 
> Also, aunnniji over on tumblr was wonderful enough to make art for one of my other stories, Lost At Sea. Here's the link, so make sure to check them out:
> 
> http://aunnniji.tumblr.com/post/76432196241/inspired-by-bellajuku-from-fanfiction-author-who
> 
> Thanks for sticking with me so far, please enjoy and remember to let me know what you think!

}{

 

Assignments kept Akihito out of the apartment for the better part of September and by the time October rolled around, bringing cool air and warm colors, Akihito felt as if he was returning from a long trip. 

 

He wasn’t the only one it seemed; Asami noticed a week after Akihito’s latest story was published- an expose on host clubs abusing their workers- that he was once again arriving home early in the evening on most nights. 

 

“It’s... odd when you aren’t here.”

 

“Is that you trying to say you missed me?”

 

“How do miss someone you share a bed with every night?”

 

It was spoken with humor, but Akihito paused; he’d had the same thought himself many a night. 

 

“Oh, so you just missed having your dinner made for you.”

 

“I could have Jiro Ono rolling sushi back there in under an hour.”

 

Asami gestured towards the kitchen with his drink and Akihito snorted around his mouthful of food. Asami could pay a compliment, even if it was a bit roundabout. 

 

“Akihito.”

 

Akihito glanced up, meeting Asami’s gaze from across the table.

 

“Whenever you’re gone, you’re missed.”

 

}{

 

“ _Asami-!”_

 

The air exploded from Akihito’s lungs as the older man straitened between his legs, angling himself to thrust deeper, harder into Akihito’s body. Asami’s powerful hands were wrapped around his waist, supporting his arching back and dragging him back against himself. Those same hands slid warm and heavy up his sides, over his heaving chest and along the length of his arms until he twined his fingers with Akihito’s, leaning over him and making him aware of every inch of his body as it was stretched out along the bed, supple and _prone._

 

Asami brought Akihito’s hands down to the insides of his spread, shaking thighs, and helped him find his grip.

 

“Hold yourself open for me. _Yes,_ just like that. Perfect. You’re perfect.”

 

Akihito closed his eyes, cheeks flushing with the praise even as he dug his fingers into his own flesh, spreading himself open for Asami. Suddenly he was pressed close again, mouth hot and open at Akihito neck, sucking heavily as if he could drink pleasure strait from his veins. The sound that left Akihito’s mouth was wordless and broken, his hands faltering at their task. Asami’s arms wound all the way around him and then they were flush to one another in every way imaginable. 

 

His neck ached when Asami released it and Akihito whined at the wet kisses that soothed over it, following the the tendon up to his jaw, across the soft underside of his chin and to his ear.

 

“So _hot_ inside... “

 

Akihito turned his face away, tried to press it into the pillow, but Asami caught him gently by the jaw and turned him back, two fingers pressing into his mouth and pumping until Akihito was moaning with each press, sucking instinctively.

 

“Even your _mouth_ is hot, Akihito...”

 

His moans were coming close to sobs now, his body rocking with each thrust, shuddering with every filthy thing Asami murmured into his ear.

 

He came trembling, glowing with sweat and dreamy as Asami continued above him. His grip on himself slackened and his hands came up to hold Asami, to pull him down into a kiss as he finished.

 

Over Asami’s shoulder, Akihito watched tiredly as shadows gathered on the ceiling, forming a dark, menacing void above them. He groaned, closed his eyes and willed them away, wrapping his arms around Asami’s neck and drawing him ever closer, like a shield. When he looked again, they were gone.

 

}{

 

In the morning, they had coffee and pastry out on the balcony. Akihito picked his croissant apart layer by layer, alternately eating it and dropping pieces over the edge of the balcony for the birds down below. Asami watched him, eyes warm, and passed him another when he was done.

 

“Try to eat some of this one.”

 

Akihito rolled his eyes and reached across the table, swiping Asami’s coffee and taking a gulp. His face twisted immediately and Asami smirked, taking the mug out of his hand.

 

“Aren’t hard-boiled journalists supposed to live off of black coffee?”

 

“That’s not coffee, that’s _tar_...”

 

He stuffed a rough torn hunk of pastry into his mouth to absorb some of the bitterness.

 

“And anyway,” Akihito spoke, unconcerned with the food in his mouth, “I’m in between assignments right now, I don’t really need the caffein.”

 

He turned away again, looking out over the city as he was before, taking in the clear fall sky, not yet warmed by the sun which had only just risen. Asami was considering him though, he could feel it.

 

“How have your dreams been?”

 

Akihito refused to look, playing it off as if it were the most inconsequential question in the world.

 

“Fine.”

 

After all, he didn’t think he’d ever had a problem with _dreams._

 

“I know you were very dedicated to your most recent project- which was excellent by the way-”

 

“You read it?”

 

At that Akihito turned. It was rare for him to write an accompaniment to his photos and his unpracticed article on the extortion that sometimes took place within the host club circuit had been swept to page-six with little fanfare. Still, it was something he couldn’t let go. 

 

“Of course,” Asami said. He didn’t elaborate though. “It took you out of the apartment very regularly.”

 

“... Yeah?”  


“But you weren’t _avoiding_ the apartment?”

 

Prickles went up the back of Akihito’s neck. As usual, Asami understood his actions better than he did. 

 

He hadn’t started out avoiding the penthouse, but after a week of only coming home to sleep for a few hours at a time, he’d noticed the heavy sense of dread had somehow lifted. He may have dragged his closing paperwork out a bit longer than strictly necessary.  

 

“No. You’re not the only one with important work.”

 

He put as much conviction as he could muster into his voice, but Asami wasn’t buying it. He held his gaze for several long seconds and Akihito thought about throwing himself off of the balcony.

 

“ _What?”_

 

Asami glanced back down at his paper and it was the closest to rolling his eyes Akihito had ever seen him come. 

 

“I’m just making sure whatever was going on a few weeks ago has passed.”

 

“Well it has.”

 

_I’ve barely been home_

 

Silence fell between them once more, a heavy juxtaposition to the comfortable quietude they’d shared for the past hour. 

 

He hated feeling as if he couldn’t talk to Asami. It wasn’t a new feeling but the list of things he kept to himself seemed to grow longer everyday, the encounter with Sakazaki glowing neon at the top. He didn’t want to keep adding to it, but neither did he want the subjects listed to continue to fester. 

 

Bolstered by baked-goods and the stupidly comforting ache in his neck where Asami had kissed him last night, Akihito decided to try.

 

“Asami...”

 

The other man looked up again, face surprisingly open.

 

“Have you ever... in the apartment, have you ever felt like you weren’t the only one there?”

 

He braced himself for a sneer or a snide remark, but instead Asami was rather blank.

 

“There are cameras in every room, if that’s what you’re-”

 

“ _Not_ cameras.” Akihito cut him off, exasperated. “A person. Do you ever feel like there’s another person in the room with you when there’s not?”

 

Still, his expression was blank, as if he couldn’t fathom the reasoning behind the question.

 

“No. Why?” 

 

“Because _I have.”_

 

Asami’s expression didn’t so much as twitch.

 

“I think we’ve more than established the cause of that. You said it’s been better though, right?”

 

“Well, yeah but-”

 

“Then it’s not a problem.”

 

“Well I haven’t been home a lot lately-”

 

“Exactly. You were focused on your work, you didn’t have time to let your imagination run wild.”

 

“Right but couldn’t it also be because I haven’t been here?”

 

“No.”

 

Akihito blinked. Asami’s tone brooked no argument, though that had never deterred Akihito before. He screwed up his face and mimicked him.

 

“‘ _No’?_ ”

 

“There’s no reason the apartment would... make you feel things. That’s ridiculous.”

 

That was it. The end of the discussion. Akihito crammed another fifth of his croissant into his mouth and stared sullenly out towards the city again.

 

Asami wasn’t _wrong_...

 

}{

 

Hours later, having been strong-armed into a better mood- Asami sitting him on the lip of the balcony and going down on him until he was practically sobbing with the adrenalin- Akihito found himself meandering up and down the aisles of the supermarket down the street, cart full of what he thought of as basic necessities. The last few meals he’d made had been bought on the fly, after coming home and finding the fridge devoid of anything aside from alcohol, condiments and one apple that he was fairly sure had been in the crisper for longer than he had lived there. Asami seemed content to live like a college student when Akihito wasn’t around. It would have been endearing if it weren’t so telling of his lack of concern for himself.

 

He was checking out by the time he realized that he should have accepted the ride he was offered; he was only a block from home but in his effort to restock the kitchen he’d saddled himself with three heavy, cumbersome paper sacks of groceries. He thought about calling for a driver but decided against it. He’d managed much trickier feats before Asami, he could handle this without his help.

 

Ten minutes later, tripping into the lobby of his building with one of the grocery bags pinched precariously between his fingers, Akihito made a firm mental note to take a car next time.

 

Two of the desk clerks leaped up to take his bags and, while he did his best to ward them off, they succeeded in relieving him of them. They trailed behind him into the elevator and kept a respectful distance as they ascended to the penthouse, silent as the dead.

 

The building’s staff had a strange affinity for him, Akihito thought. They were all uniformly terrified of Asami- which was amusing in a way, as Akihito had never seen him be anything but courteous to them- but they smiled at Akihito like he was some kind of deity, falling over themselves to greet him whenever he couldn’t get through the lobby fast enough. It was sweet but also somewhat panic inducing, because Akihito really wasn’t used to that sort of consideration and wasn’t sure how to receive it. Also, they all insisted upon referring to him as ‘Asami-sama’, which never failed to set off a miniature existential crisis that would consume him for at least as long as it took him to collect his mail and retreat back into the apartment.

 

The two who accompanied him were young, even younger than him. It was a boy and a girl, and he could sense them looking at each other with excitement and a sense of camaraderie; they wanted to see the penthouse.

 

When they reached the top floor, Akihito rummaged for his key and tried to think of exactly what to say to thank them without being awkward. As the door swung open, he turned to take his bags back only to find the two attendants attempting to edge around him.

 

“Um, I can take it from here... thanks.”

 

He rearranged his single bag into the crook of his elbow and the young woman shook her head.

 

“Asami-sama,” God, she was a year younger than him at the most, “Please allow us to assist you with the groceries.”

 

“You already ‘assisted’ me with the groceries-”

 

The boy was straining his neck in a poorly disguised effort to see over Akihito’s shoulder. They were desperate. Akihito sighed.

 

 Asami would never indulge such unprofessionalism, as benign as it was, and Akihito supposed that was why he was the preferred tenant; it was harmless curiosity after all, to see how the other half lived. He couldn’t fault them for their interest.

 

What he _could_ fault them for was the twin masks of disappointment they both took on minutes after he led them into the kitchen and had them deposit their bags on the table. The girl looked positively bored and glanced at her counterpart with an expression that clearly said ‘I-told-you-so’. He in turn was darting his gaze around like a cornered animal, searching for something. Akihito busied himself putting groceries away and watched them mouth to one another out of the corner of his eye. When he finished, he crossed his arms and leaned into the island in the center of the kitchen, pointedly interrupting their private exchange.

 

“Are you waiting for a tip or a tour?”

 

Guilty flushes washed over the pair and the girl began to see herself out, ushering her partner with her.

 

“Apologies, Asami-sama, we were just-”

 

“And stop calling me that. My name is Akihito. Takaba-san, I guess.”

 

“Yes, sorry sir, we’ll leave you to-”

 

“What were you hoping to see?”

 

He worked to keep the bite out of his voice, because he really had nothing to be angry about. He couldn’t fathom the sudden change of mood from them though. After all, weren’t they just hoping to get a peak at the apartment? What exactly were they expecting?

 

“Nothing, really-”

 

“We just thought it’d be creepier is all.”

 

The young man cut in looking for all the world like he thought he was helping. His friend elbowed him sharply in the ribs, shushing him and glancing apologetically at Akihito.

 

“What he means is... I mean... It’s just very normal. A normal, beautiful apartment. Have a wonderful evening Takaba-sama.”

 

“Why would it be creepy?”

 

His jaw was clenched uncomfortably tight and there must have been some authority in his voice because they both froze in their effort to back away and glanced at one another. It was the young man who spoke.

 

“Well... you know.”

 

“No. I don’t.”

 

“Because of... what happened to _Mori-sama._ ”

 

He whispered the last part, like it was a secret. Akihito took a deep breath, suddenly sick to his stomach.

 

“Who was Mori-sama?”

 

More stalling, more glancing back and forth between the two, and then Akihito cleared his throat, trying to sound more confident than he was.

 

“Mori-sama and his family were the last people to live in this apartment.”

 

Akihito closed his eyes.

 

“And what happened to them?”

 

}{

 

He hadn’t planned to throw the glass, but the moment he caught sight of Asami, all of the anger that had been stewing for the last few hours hit a flashpoint and that’s exactly what he did. The heavy cut-crystal arched across the kitchen and shattered against the doorframe, Asami ducking almost effortlessly out of it’s way and reaching for his side arm. He aborted the gesture the moment he saw Akihito though, straitening back to his normal, relaxed posture with infuriating ease.

 

“Really, Akihito?”

 

“You’re an _asshole.”_

 

There was serious gravel in his voice but he wasn’t crying, just fuming. His hands were shaking at his sides and he wanted to throw something else but there weren’t any other projectiles available to him. He settled for crossing his arms, digging his fingernails into the flesh to relive some of the tension.

 

Asami sighed and moved all the way into the apartment, revealing Kirishima standing behind him and looking carefully disinterested. Asami turned slightly, probably to dismiss him, and Akihito lurched forward, stabbing his finger in the secretary’s direction.

 

“No, let him stay, I’m sure he knew too. Maybe he helped.”

 

The thought spurred a fit of somewhat desperate laughter and Asami edged towards him.

 

“Akihito, _what_ are you talking about?”

 

“Who’s Ichirou Mori?”

 

Asami shook his head minutely, eyes narrowed.

 

“I have _no_ idea-”

 

“ _Bullshit!”_

 

“Asami-sama.”

 

Akihito watched, lip twitching in irritation, as Kirishima stepped forward and murmured something into his boss’s ear. Recognition dawned on his face and he looked at Akihito again, much more gently.

 

“Oh, Akihito-”

 

“Don’t ‘oh Akihito’ me, _what did you do?”_

 

_“Nothing._ I never knew the Mori’s, I never-”

 

He reached out again and Akihito jerked away, eliciting another pained grimace.

 

“I had never even heard of them. I only took over the building after-”

 

“After you had it ‘vacated’, I know.”

 

Akihito’s voice trembled dangerously and Asami’s face tightened.

 

“ _No._ Where are you getting this from?”

 

“It doesn’t _matter_ how I heard it, except that I didn’t hear it from _you!”_

 

“Why would I bring that up? It happened years ago, before you were even a thought of. It has no bearing on anything.”

 

“It ‘ _has bearing’_ on the fact that I’ve been telling you for weeks I’ve felt something in this apartment and _you_ told me I was ‘ _overtired_ ’.”

 

“And? What does this change?”

 

“Asami, something is _wrong_ with this apartment. I thought I was imagining things before but now it almost makes sense.”

 

He looked at Asami expectantly but the man looked just a baffled as before, staring at Akihito liked he’d grown a second head.

 

“There’s something in here Asami. I don’t know what, but I can _feel_ it.”

 

“Feel what? What are you talking about?” 

 

Akihito groaned his frustration, scrubbing a hand over his face. 

 

“You’re telling me you _murdered_ an entire family in here-”

 

“Mori was killed by _his own men_ after a business deal went sour, don’t you dare make assumptions about something you know nothing of.”

 

There was thinly veiled insult in his voice and Akihito couldn’t blame him for it. The story he’d been told featured the brutal death of a wife and child along with Mori. Some part of him knew Asami hadn’t been involved just by that detail alone. That and the fact that Asami had all but forgotten the family name. Still, he could feel an anger so unlike anything he had felt towards Asami before, and Asami was only fueling it.

 

“ _Fine_ ,” Akihito ground out. “An entire family _was murdered_ in this apartment and you don’t think that could have _anything_ to do with what’s been happening to me?”

 

“What _exactly_ has been happening to you? Because so far it’s been all very explainable things.”

 

“ _I can’t explain it_. First there was the knocking-”

 

“A dream.”

 

“But then it happened again, and-”

 

“ _Also_ a dream. Akihito-”

 

“There’s been noises and voices and stuff moving and _my bruise_ and-”

 

“You said you got that on a job.”

 

“What?”

 

The last comment snapped Akihito out of his rant and he fixed Asami with a disbelieving stare.

 

“Your bruise. You told me you got it on a job, now you’re saying it happened here?”

 

Akihito screwed up his face.

 

“I cannot _believe_ that out of everything, _that_ is what you’ve chosen to focus on.”

 

“I can’t stand it when you lie to me.”

 

“I can’t explain it anyway so what difference does it make-”

 

“That’s a large bruise to not be able to explain.”

 

“Exactly, that’s what I’m trying to tell you, something isn’t _right.”_

 

“So it just showed up out of the blue?”

 

“What?”

 

“The bruise.”

 

Akihito cursed under his breath; Asami could be like a dog with a bone.

 

“Asami I have no idea how I got it. I mean I do but-”

 

“You do or you don’t?”

 

“ _Don’t_ interrogate me-”

 

“Obviously I have to or you just make things up.”

 

“If I tell you, it’ll sound sound crazy.”

 

“Compared to everything else you just said?”

 

Asami laughed and there was a humorless, almost _mean_ edge to it. In that moment Akihito felt very small. He glanced at Kirishima in embarrassment and was surprised at the empathy he saw in the older man’s gaze. It gave him pause, but Asami’s voice snapped him back to attention.

 

“Well?”

 

He took a breath, steeled himself for whatever mockery he was bringing down on himself with this admission.

 

“I felt something grab me.”

 

There was silence as Asami stared at him, eyebrows raised.

 

“That’s it?”

 

“It was late at night, you weren’t here, I felt something grab me in bed and when I woke up there was a bruise in that spot. Are you happy?”

 

“So are you fucking the ghost too or was this a one time thing?”

 

Akihito froze. 

 

For as much as Akihito liked to site Asami’s cruelness, it rarely extended to him. Such crassness as well was out of character, so much so that even Asami himself seemed taken aback by his own words. He could have no way of knowing how deep the comment had cut, and yet he seemed to. They held one another’s gaze for a long moment. Then, there was a resounding thud, and all eyes turned towards the living room.

 

“Stay put.”

 

Asami brushed past him to investigate and Akihito rolled his eyes.

 

“There’s no one in the apartment, I’ve been here all afternoon.”

 

“Well maybe it’s your ghost, I’d love to meet him.”

 

There was no bite in his voice this time and Akihito rolled his eyes; the thing had avoided Asami like the plague so far, there was no way he’d be lucky enough for it to reveal itself now.

 

Asami turned to say something as the entered the living room but Akihito cut him off, rushing towards the bay window.

 

“ _Oh..._ ”

 

There was a bloody splotch in the center of the otherwise pristine glass doors and directly below it, still twitching on the concrete, was a large, black crow.

 

}{

 

Akihito didn’t watch Kirishima collect the dead bird, or the cleaning staff as they quickly scrubbed the blood and feathers off of the window and balcony. Instead, he sat at the table with the tea Asami had made for him and tried not to make eye contact.

 

“I wasn’t concealing anything from you.”

 

He blew on his tea and shrugged, not really interested in having a conversation.

 

“Akihito, it truly didn’t occur to me to tell you something like that.”

 

Asami sighed, sounding more tired than annoyed.

 

“I hadn’t thought about it _myself_ for quite some time.”

 

“How can you not?” Akihito looked up, letting Asami see the unease on his face for the first time. “An entire family died in here.”

 

“It was more than a decade ago Akihito.”

 

“So that makes it alright?”

 

“It makes it irrelevant.”

 

He didn’t say it unkindly, but still Akihito was left searching for some scrap of emotion, of sympathy for the dead. He couldn’t find any.

 

“I don’t want to be here.”

 

Asami’s face hardened almost imperceptibly and Akihito raised his hands, not wanting to start another argument.

 

“Not permanently or anything, I just want to take a walk or something, get some air.”

 

Asami visibly relaxed, nodding his assent. He ran a hand down Akihito’s back as he stood from his chair and Akihito was half out the door before he turned back, barely making eye contact. 

 

“I’m sorry I threw a glass at you.”

 

“I’ve had worse.”

 

Asami smirked at him, seeming more amused than anything else, and Akihito left with one less worry eating away at him.

 

Out on the street, Kirishima caught up to him before he’d even rounded the corner.

 

}{

 

“It’s not that Asami-sama doesn’t care, he just doesn’t understand your aversion.”

 

“How can he not?”

 

Akihito cried out, causing several passerby to turn and Kirishima to gesture for him to lower his voice. 

 

“Sorry.”

 

They were sitting on a bench, just outside of a nearby park. Kirishima had been the one to suggest they sit and Akihito had been so caught off guard by the offer that he complied. 

 

“Asami-sama is very desensitized to that sort of thing. He does his best not to confront you with that aspect of his business, and in doing so he may have unintentionally hid this from you, but I can assure you it wasn’t a deliberate attempt to-”

 

“You sound like you’re reading from a script, did he put you up to this?”

 

“No, and I wouldn’t normally interfere but I can see that you’re under a lot of strain and I wanted to alleviate some of it, if possible.”

 

He sounded genuine enough. Akihito pulled his feet up on the bench, hugged his knees to his chest.

 

“I believe him you know. I don’t think he killed those people. I don’t think he was trying to hide it from me. But either way I can’t stand the idea.”

 

Kirishima nodded, making sure he was finished before speaking himself.

 

“I found it distasteful as well.”

 

“Yeah?”

 

Akihito looked up, searching for any hint of duplicity, finding none.

 

“I was against acquiring the property, but the price, location and utility were right, so Asami-sama couldn’t understand my reluctance. He took me seriously, but he asked me to quantify my hesitance, to find a reason in dollars and cents why he shouldn’t purchase it, and I couldn’t.”

 

“What happened exactly?”

 

Kirishima thought for a moment.

 

“What he told you. Mori was in a similar line of business as Asami-sama. He was sloppy though, and his people knew it. There was a lot of resentment, distrust within the ranks. Operations like these are only successful when there is one-hundred percent trust between a leader and their subordinates. Mori blew a deal, his people were angry and they decided to take matters into their own hands.”

 

“They killed his little girl.”

 

“They did.”

 

They sat quietly for a little while longer but Akihito could feel Kirishima building up to something. He was so focused on what the secretary might say that when he finally spoke, Akihito was startled.

 

“He can’t feel it the way you can.”

 

“What?”

 

Kirishima was staring strait ahead, like he was doing his best to pretend they weren’t having a conversation at all.

 

“Asami-sama can’t feel the presence as acutely as you do. He can’t feel it at all really. If he does, he doesn’t recognize it for what it is.”

 

Akihito found himself mirroring Kirishima’s position, staring into the street as the sentence played over and over in his head.

 

_He can’t feel it_

 

_he can’t feel the presence_

 

_presence_

 

“What are you saying?”

 

Kirishima checked his watch.

 

“I really shouldn’t be unaccounted for for much longer-”

 

Akihito grabbed a handful of the secretary’s suit jacket like he could physically keep him in place.

 

“You can’t say that and then leave me here, I feel like I’m going crazy!”

 

“You’re not.”

 

Kirishima grabbed him by his upper arms, shocking him into releasing his jacket.

 

“You’re not crazy. There’s nothing wrong with you. Asami-sama isn’t trying to make you feel that way but he can’t help it. He can’t understand what you’re going through because he’s practically blind to it.”

 

“Blind to _what_?”

 

“Spirits.”

 

Once the word was out of his mouth it hung in the air between them like a curse. Of course that was what they’d been talking about the whole time, but now that it had been named, there was no going back. Kirishima obviously understood this and he released Akihito, visibly annoyed with himself.

 

“I shouldn’t even be having this discussion with you, I just couldn’t let you continue on the way you were.”

 

“The way I... What do you mean, what am I supposed to be doing?”

 

Kirishima surveyed their surroundings, settling back into his seat.

 

“If Asami-sama asks-”

 

“You can walk me back when we’re done, I’ll say you talked me out of staying with a friend.”

 

Kirishima raised an eyebrow and Akihito rolled his eyes.

 

“Why do you get so antsy about being alone with me? You’re practically my babysitter, if Asami had his way I’d be handcuffed to you whenever he’s not around.”

 

“I can _assure_ you that is not the case.”

 

His nervous inflection piqued Akihito’s interest but he shook his curiosity away, focused on getting the answers that had seemed nonexistent only hours ago.

 

“Kirishima-san, what am I supposed to do?”

 

The older man sighed.

 

“I’m not... an expert in these matters-”

 

“Well you clearly know more than me.”

 

“Second hand knowledge, Takaba-kun.”

 

“It’s still better than nothing.”

 

“Provided it doesn’t get you killed.”

 

“ _Killed?”_ Akihito’s mouth dropped open, smacking Kirishima’s hand away when he made yet another gesture for him to be quiet. “I thought ghosts weren’t supposed to be able to hurt you?”

 

“In theory. However I was just witness to a discussion of some bruising?”

 

Akihito nodded and fell quiet again, picking at the cuticle on his left thumbnail absently.

 

“You’re sure it came from a spirit?”

 

“I wasn’t. I am now.”

 

“The fact that it was able to touch you is... not good.”

 

Akihito snorted.

 

“Did you feel threatened at the time?”

 

“I was mostly just annoyed until I realized it wasn’t Asami. Then I was scared, but he was home so it was already gone.”

 

“Asami-sama, you mean?”

 

Akihito nodded.

 

“You’re implying that it left because Asami-sama had arrived home?”

 

“Yeah. It always does.”

 

“Do you feel as if it’s targeting you?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Akihito didn’t need to even consider his answer. Kirishima pushed his glasses up his face, crossed his arms and legs at the same time in an odd, nervous gesture.

 

“I would try to stay close to Asami-sama if I were you.”

 

It was a vague, ominous instruction and the cuticle Akihito was picking at was slowly turning into a hangnail.

 

“Why?”

 

“As I said, I’m not an exp-”

 

“Why?”

 

Kirishima twitched at being cut off, but continued anyway.

 

“I’m sure you’ve figured this out for yourself by now, but whatever is dwelling in the penthouse is malevolent. Malevolent spirits feed on fear and anxiety and all other sorts of negative emotions. _You_ are very emotive. You’re also very perceptive. This make you and easy target for an entity like that. It’s attracted to you because it can get what it wants from you.

 

Asami-sama on the other hand is much less appealing. He’s no where near as sensitive as you are, so it’s nearly impossible for the spirit to interact with him or get his attention. He also isn’t particularly emotive, so even if the spirit _did_ manage to open a... a dialog, it wouldn’t get much in return.”

 

It made sense, a lot of sense, but it still posed more questions than it answered.

 

“But if Asami is so oblivious to it why is it afraid of him?”

 

“Afraid?”

 

Akihito shook his head, unable to find the words.

 

“It doesn’t just ignore him, it _avoids_ him. It won’t even come near me when he’s home.”

 

Kirishima nodded, understanding.

 

“As I said, it feeds off of negative emotion. It’s probably much easier to antagonize you when you’re by yourself than when Asami-sama is home. You need to be careful though.”

 

Akihito looked up, all attention.

 

“Situations like this afternoon, with you fighting like that... that’s what it wants.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

Kirishima turned all the way towards him, leaning down like they were sharing a secret.

 

“If it can get you to the point where being with Asami-sama evokes more negative emotions within you than positive, any barrier he provided will be gone. It wants to isolate you, Takaba-kun. That’s how it wins. 

 

Akihito swallowed hard and broke Kirishima’s gaze, drawing his arms around himself against the chilly breeze.

 

“That crow... do you think it had anything to do with..?”

 

“Do you often see birds flying at that hight, Takaba-kun?”

 

Before Akihito could answer, Kirishima’s phone rang, the generic, auto-equipped ringtone that meant Asami was on the other line. Kirishima let out an uncharacteristic curse and reached for it while Akihito sagged against the back of the bench, not realizing how much tension he’d been sitting with. He glanced down at his hands and found his cuticle bleeding where he’d picked at it. He stuck the corner of his thumb in his mouth while Kirishima effortlessly handled Asami.

 

In a few minutes, they were on their way back.

 

“So, how do I get rid of it?”

 

Akihito barely hoped for an answer, but it would be stupid not to ask. Kirishima seemed to understand.

 

“That, I don’t know. I will gather as much information as I can but in the meantime, do your best to stay close to Asami-sama. Feed it as little as possible and maybe we can starve the damn thing out.”

 

It was surprisingly candid talk from Asami’s assistant, but Akihito appreciated it.He grasped Kirishima’s hand as they entered the building, holding firmly like they were shaking on a deal.

 

“Let’s do out best.”

 

It felt silly and hollow in the face of everything Akihito had just learned, but Kirishima squeezed his hand for a moment and repeated the phrase right back to him. 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Sorry if that was a little wordy/plotty/boring but I think it was necessary for things to move beyond Akihito routinely getting scared and then telling himself to suck it up. Also, I know the ending was a little cheesy but Akihito always has such a great 'ganbaro' attitude that I had to sneak that in there lol.
> 
> We also got a liiiitttlllee bit of background on whatever has been terrorizing Akihito, as well as why it might be doing it (maybe)
> 
> Please remember to let me know what you think and also come visit me on tumblr at bellajuku-tokyo.tumblr.com
> 
> Love,
> 
> Izzy


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys!!!
> 
> I'm so sorry for my prolonged absence but I was so delighted and grateful to see that there were still people out there reading this story and wishing for an update so here you go! A little early new years present just for you.
> 
> I've been editing this chapter for a few days now and I hope it's okay, but I finally realized if I didn't post it today I probably wouldn't have it up before 2017 because of my holiday work schedule. If there are any mistakes please forgive me!
> 
> Like I've said before, I do have an actual plan for where this is going so eventually, eventually, there will be an end.
> 
> Please as always let me know what you think and enjoy!

“Where have you been?”

 

It was an innocuous enough question, one that Akihito was more than used to by now. Maybe that’s why his answers had become a little too broad, a little too lazy.

 

“Out. I was on a job.”

 

Asami was leaning on the counter, drink in hand, watching him quietly as he kicked off his sneakers and let his bag slide from his shoulder.

 

“You were at my office in Shinjuku.”

 

Akihito froze in his tracks, mind racing until-

 

_Damn it_

 

“Why would you trace my phone? You promised that was for emergencies only.”

 

He had agreed to the little tracking chip after much discussion, accepting that it could prove useful, vital even, in an emergency. 

 

“I never _promised.”_ Asami corrected him and Akihito narrowed his eyes. “I said would ‘refrain’ from using it outside of emergencies.”

 

“That’s the same thing.”

 

Asami huffed a laugh, clinking his glass down on the counter.

 

“That’s an exemption clause. Consult me before you ever sign a contract, your eye for detail doesn’t seem to extend past your camera lens.”

 

“Forgive me if I don’t think of every conversation as a… a contract.”

 

“You should, I mean everything I say.”

 

Akihito stared for a moment, irritated, before rolling his eyes and continuing past Asami, heading for the fridge. He opened it and crouched down to sift through left overs.

 

“You didn’t answer my question.”

 

“Which was?”

 

Akihito snatched a plate of day old gyoza from the back and straitened, letting the door slam.

 

“ _Why_ would you trace my phone?”

 

“It was… unusually late for you to be out and I was-“

 

“Worried?”

 

“ _Interested_.”

 

The correction came with a chilly tone that Akihito did his best to brush off, focusing intently on the chrome buttons of the microwave, wanting to flinch as their shrill tone pierced the silence around them.

 

He’d been with Kirishima. 

 

They’d been meeting once or twice a week since their conversation earlier in the month. Their conversations were a cross between a brain storming session and a support group; they weren’t coming up with much but it felt better to do something rather than nothing and Akihito found that explaining the things that happened when he was alone to someone who actually knew what was going on had greatly improved his mental state. He felt better than he had in months.

 

The problem was it was nearly impossible to make plans with a man who had almost no free time he wasn’t already using to eat, sleep and bathe. Kirishima was always with Asami and when he wasn’t _with_ him he was he was doing something _for_ him which absolutely could not be interrupted. 

 

Tonight, Akihito had texted Kirishima, asking him to let him know when Asami left the office for the evening and to stay behind. He’d taken the elevator to the sixth floor and they’d sat in the same kitchenette that Kirishima had first made him tea in, eating osembe and clicking through articles about spirits. 

 

Now, as the microwave beeped and the numbers shifted back to display a clock, he saw it was two in the morning.

 

How the hell was he going explain being in the _Sion_ building for an hour and a half of his own volition?

 

He shoved an entire dumpling into his mouth, effectively burning his tongue but giving himself a moment to come up with a reasonable response. Finally, still chewing, he spoke.

 

“I was in the area for a job, I was going to surprise you and go home with you, but when you weren’t there I started talking to Kirishima-san. I guess I lost track of time.”

 

Asami raised a brow.

 

“You were talking to Kirishima? For that long.”

 

Akihito nodded, holding out the plate for Asami to take a dumpling and being wholly ignored.

 

“I didn’t realize you two were so well acquainted.” 

 

“We’re not.”

 

Akihito corrected himself, a bit too quickly, and was left wondering why he felt defensive.

 

“I mean we are. I like Kirishima-san, I just never really talked to him before.”

 

“Because you have no reason to.”

 

Akihito’s jaw froze mid-chew and he swallowed harshly, not understanding the tone Asami’s voice had taken on.

 

“Hey, I told you what I was doing. I wasn't snooping or whatever, you can ask Kirishima-san he’ll tell you the exact same thing.”

 

Now it was Asami’s turn to look nonplussed.

 

“Snooping?”

 

“Yeah, that’s why you think I was there right?” Akihito turned to wash his dish under the tap. “I wasn’t. I went to see you, saw Kirishima-san, we talked for a while and I left. No camera, no ‘scoop’, ask him if you don’t believe me.”

 

He turned back just in time to see Asami sweep the confusion off of his face, adopting a warmer expression than what he’d worn when Akihito had first walked in. 

 

“What?” Akihito leaned his palms against the counter. “That’s what this was about right?”

 

“Of course.”

 

He spoke with complete conviction and yet Akihito got the sense that that was not the case. He couldn’t think of any other reason Asami wouldn’t want him at _Sion_ headquarters alone, much less any reason he’d even _want_ to be there, but he didn’t question Asami in favor of dropping the argument. 

 

“Okay… Are you done interrogating me?”

 

“For now.”

 

A threat, but playful and warm in a way that made Akihito fight a smile.

 

“Come on, I want to watch a movie.”

 

Freshly showered and sprawled on the wide leather couch Akihito dozed to the sound of shrieks and chainsaws while Asami traced patterns on his back and predicted with startling accuracy the order in which every character would die. 

 

“I can’t imagine what interest this holds for you.”

 

“Well not when you shout out who’s going to die every two minutes.”

 

“Oh am I giving away the plot Akihito? This nuanced, ever so subtle plot about-“

 

“ _Okay.”_

 

Akihito laughed, rolling away from the television so he was face-to-face and pressed up close with Asami, who’s eyes reflected the screen to glow amber in the dark.

 

Asami kissed him, almost chaste, but long and soft, a warm press of his mouth to Akihito’s while large hands came up to cup his face, thumbs stroking over his cheeks. Akihito slid his hands up his chest to wrap around his neck, pulling him down and over so that Asami was on top of him, a solid weight to sink under while he opened his mouth, invited him deeper.

 

Asami wrapped his hands around his waist and tugged him easily upwards so his hips were higher and Asami could lay between his legs, one foot on the floor to keep from crushing him. He braced one hand beside his head and took Akihito’s full bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it swollen. Akihito nipped him back.

 

“I take it you’re ready for bed?”

 

After all, Asami’s patience for slasher flicks was shorter than any of the many other things he indulged Akihito in. He’d thought the older man would jump at the chance to transition from B-movie to bed but Asami didn’t respond, still hovering over him, inches from his face.

 

“Hey. Earth to Asami.”

 

He nudged his hand into one solid shoulder and Asami didn’t so much as twitch. His face was slate blank- odd for when they were being intimate- and Akihito laughed uneasily.

 

“What are you doing?”

 

He was suddenly very aware of the larger man’s weight on him, and the fact that he was effectively pinned down. Golden eyes were locked on his own but they were completely impassive, cold even by Asami’s standard. His jaw was tight, body rigid.

 

The sense of something being very, _very_ wrong settled over Akihito, along with cold sweat and wave a nausea that prompted him to shove at Asami’s shoulder, panic fizzing though him.

 

“Asami this isn’t funny, I- _Ah_!”

 

The hand that had been braced by his head abruptly wrapped around his throat with an awful, crushing tightness. Akihito gasped and choked, unable to draw even a shallow breath as his hands shot up to claw at Asami’s wrist, trying to break his grip and failing miserably. 

 

Unable to breath, there was no option to plead or even scream. His eyes were wide, straining and stinging with tears from both pain and fear. Asami’s face was stone above his, his hand ever tightening, impossibly strong. 

 

Struggling proved useless and Akihito could feel his consciousness fading as he used up what little oxygen he had trying to push, kick, turn, _anything_ to get Asami off of him. If he could just scream, make _any_ sound, he knew there were men stationed all around that very floor who’d come running. Would they help him though? They worked for Asami after all, would they even care? Things that had never occurred to him were suddenly drifting through his fearful, fading consciousness. Sure he had body guards, but who would protect him from Asami? No one.

 

He could feel hot tears streaming down his face, over his chin, pooling where Asami’s hand wrapped around his throat. Even as his vision blackened his lips were moving, soundless begging.

 

_Why_

 

_why_

 

 

_why_

 

_w_

 

_h_

 

_y_

 

And then the pressure was gone and Akihito was lurching upward, disoriented and flailing, breath coming in huge desperate gulps. The room was blindingly bright and his eyes burned at the sudden adjustment..

 

“ _Akihito!”_

 

HIs vision focused on Asami, surging from the couch and reaching for him in one quick motion that had Akihito stumbling backwards, hands up to defend himself, falling in his effort to get away from him.

 

“ _No!”_

 

Asami froze, hands outstretched, face stricken as Akihito landed a few feet away and pushed himself quickly backward. His back hit the base of the arm chair behind him and he froze, eyes wide and darting, taking in the sudden change of setting.

 

Bright daylight was streaming through the large picture window, illuminating the living room. Glasses he’d thought they’d been drinking from only moments ago were sitting on the coffee table, drained, rims sticky with dried alcohol. The television was muted, the menu screen of the DVD they’d watched looping endlessly.

 

It was morning.

 

“Akihito I-“

 

“ _Don’t touch me!”_

 

His voice shook as he remember the crushing pressure that had been on his throat just moments ago. Asami had inched forward but stopped in his tracks once again, face tight. Slowly he turned his hands palm-out and sank to his knees in front of Akihito, showing he meant no harm.

 

Akihito reached up to feel his neck, pressing gently at first and then harder when he realized there was no discomfort. His breathing, though quick with adrenalin, was unobstructed.

 

“I don’t know what’s going through your head,” Asami spoke very quietly, very slowly, watching him carefully but never once reaching for him. “But you’re safe.”

 

Akihito eyed him carefully all the same, mind still reeling. His knees were drawn into his chest, ready to stand at any moment, arms up defensively. He glanced over Asami’s shoulder, towards the kitchen and then the front door, his only exit. Asami seemed to read his mind and sat even further back, doing everything he could to make himself smaller, unimposing.

 

“ _Akihito.”_

 

His voice sounded almost desperate and Akihito was immediately transported to the cruise ship in Macau, Asami shouting his name from the upper deck, urgent in his need to find him. He slumped slightly, slowly understanding that he wasn’t in any danger.

 

“I… you… You were… “

 

He looked wretchedly at Asami, aware of the frantic glint in his eyes. The fear was still there, only now he realized it was displaced. Asami didn’t look relieved.

 

“I _what_?”

 

His face told Akihito he knew _exactly_ what he was trying to say. He still didn’t reach for him, didn’t make any move in his direction, but Akihito could see he was restraining himself. The realization made his chest ache but he still wasn’t ready to go to him, wasn’t quite free of the absolute horror that had made him recoil in the first place. When he still didn’t speak, something in Asami’s demeanor seemed to snap.

 

“Akihito I wouldn’t hurt you over anything.” 

 

There was a frayed edge to his voice, unlike any Akihito had ever heard from him, and he couldn’t take it any longer, his guilt at having hurt Asami outweighing any fear of him. He wiped roughly at the tears that had dried along his cheeks, his chin, his throat, and blinked away the ones that threatened to escape.

 

“I know.” He sighed deeply, “I know that.”

 

And yet when Asami shifted towards him again, reached for him with that same right hand, Akihito jerked back instinctively and Asami’s face, despite a carefully schooled expression, turned pallid.

 

“ _I’m sorry.”_

 

Akihito apologized immediately, surging forward, hating himself for the wounded look that had flashed across Asami’s features when he’d flinched from him. He pushed himself into Asami’s chest, ignoring his own misguided discomfort, and didn’t budge until Asami wrapped his arms around him, hesitant at first, then tightly, as if Asami wanted to draw him into himself and hold him there.

 

“I know you wouldn’t hurt me.”

 

He repeated, unsure which one of them he was trying to reassure.Asami seemed placated though, nodding against the crown of Akihito’s head, pulling him closer still. The tightness of his hold made Akihito want to squirm but he fought the urge.

 

They stayed like that for some time, Akihito’s eyes slowly taking in their surroundings; they were both in the clothing they’d worn the night before from what he could tell, as if they’d fallen asleep on the couch and spent the night, which meant…

 

“I was dreaming.”

 

“I know.”

 

Asami released him gently before shifting to the couch and urging Akihito to follow. He did, fighting the residual repulsion that flowed through him when Asami drew him down into his lap, hands stroking over his hair and down his neck in a way that was meant to be comforting.

 

_I’m fine I’m fine everything is fine…_

 

“That must have been a very bad dream.”

 

It wasn’t a question but it was clear Asami wanted him to elaborate.

 

“I… don’t really want to tell you.”

 

“Why not?”

 

Asami was prickling but he knew it wasn’t because of him; for all his ego Asami had a self-deprecating streak a mile wide.

 

_He hates that I was afraid of him_

 

“Because it doesn’t matter, and I don’t want to think about it anyway.”

 

“Is it because of Mori?”

 

_Is it because you think I killed Mori?_

 

“No, it’s not. It’s not because of anything. It was just a weird dream. I was probably hearing the movie in my sleep.”

 

Asami didn’t respond and Akihito reached up without looking, taking the hand from his hair and bringing it down to hold in both his own, pressed against his cheek.

 

“I don’t want you to be upset.”

 

“I’m not upset.”

 

His response was immediate and also untrue. Akihito sighed and turned his head so his lips brushed Asami’s hand, an almost-kiss when he spoke.

 

“I don’t want you to be upset.” He repeated, emphatically, eyes closed and mind sluggishly replaying Kirishima’s advice, urging him to keep Asami close, keep their bond strong. “I don’t want you to feel like I don’t trust you.”

 

_Like I don’t love you._

 

That got Asami’s attention and he leaned down, curling around Akihito and resting his forehead against his temple. 

 

“Thank you.”

 

**_}{_ **

 

“I feel like shit.”

 

“You can’t be blamed for that Takaba-kun, your subconscious feelings don’t know the difference between dreams and reality.”

 

“I don’t care, you should have seen how he looked at me, it was like I ripped his heart out and put it down the garbage disposal.”

 

Kirishima grimaced sympathetically and passed back the carton of fried rice. 

 

Akihito had asked him to meet at the newspaper office this time, which was much smaller than the _Sion Group’s_ , but also much quieter at a quarter past midnight. They sat in the bullpen, devouring the contents of the communal fridge which Akihito _swore_ were from that afternoon’s lunch, insisting the incorrect date was just a mistake. Kirishima was surprisingly okay with sharing food and they passed the containers back and forth with little fanfare. Akihito suspected he hadn’t eaten that day, but didn’t say anything. There were beers as well, some cheap brand that Kirishima looked at askance, but still drank.

 

In the few days since his outburst Asami had been alternately distant and overly-attentive, in a pattern that Akihito had yet to decipher. His other roommate was also behaving strangely, with long periods of inactivity that would leave him startled at the smallest sign of it’s presence, leading to more than few embarrassing yelps and stumbles. He fully believed it had caused his ‘dream’ and the fear from that night had found it’s proper home. The thing had gone from cheap scares to true emotional manipulation and that was more frightening than any shadowy figure, any bump in the night.

 

But while Akihito refused to shrink from Asami- what Kirishima believed to be motive of the dream- it was still having it’s desired effect, albeit less severe; Asami routinely took his trepidation for wariness of _him_ and Akihito had caught him more than once looking at him with that same half-guilty expression he’d worn that day. He never commented on it though, refusing to fuel whatever fire had been started.

 

“To be fair,” Kirishima gestured flippantly to a container of noodles he wanted Akihito to hand him and Akihito almost chuckled at his change in demeanor now that they’d met like this several times. “Asami-sama can be a little…”

 

He trailed off, reconsidering his words.

 

“He can be a little..?”

 

“With you, he tends to… internalize, sometimes to a degree that causes you unnecessary strife.” 

 

“I screamed at him not to touch me.”

 

“I’ve heard you scream that several times.”

 

It was meant as a joke but Akihito flared bright red and dropped his head down between his shoulders.

 

“Yeah well I _meant_ it this time and he knows it.”

 

“Asami-sama will be fine.” That was said with finite certainty. “ _You_ need to focus on not feeling ‘like shit’. Remember, any negative emotion-“

 

“It’s like food for this thing, I get it. I just feel…”

 

“You feel guilty.”

 

Kirishima supplied and Akihito sucked in a breath. He felt guilty for a lot of things, not just making Asami question his trust, but those were things he could never discuss with Kirishima. It wasn’t just the certainty of KIrishima telling Asami about his indiscretion either; he liked Kirishima, respected him, and the thought of him knowing he’d betrayed Asami to such a degree made his stomach churn. 

 

His face must have turned, confirming his guilt, because when Kirishima took another gulp of his beer his eyes flicked to the ceiling, quietly vexed. Akihito didn’t think it was directed at him though, not when the look he received after was so understanding.

 

“It was unintentional, you have nothing to feel guilty for. Asami-sama is no saint, he shouldn’t be projecting his own contrition onto you.”

 

He said it very casually, not looking up from the tablet that sat on the desk between them, but Akihito was struck by the defensive sentiment of the statement, like he was frustrated with Asami. Akihito waited for him to backtrack, to apologize for criticizing Asami’s behavior, but he didn’t. 

 

“I… it really scared me, Kirishima-san. I’m not upset because of how Asami reacted, I’m upset that I was afraid of him in the first place. I know… I know he would never.” Akihito couldn’t bring himself to say it, “It just felt so real. And to know that there was nothing I could do, no one to go to…”

 

He shook his head, not wanting to relive the entire scenario. Kirishima looked perplexed though, pausing his reading to direct his attention towards Akihito once more.

 

“That’s isolation Takaba-kun, it wants you to feel that way. You are aware you have a security detail in the building though, correct? I actually arrange it myself, were there any sign of your distress I can assure there are many people who would be aware and at your service.”

 

“Right but… not against Asami.”

 

“Absolutely against Asami-sama.”

 

Akihito’s brows shot up.

 

“That doesn’t make any sense though, he’s their boss-“

 

“Every organization like this has a priority list. Asami-sama made you ‘number one’ some time ago.”

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

“Meaning, if a situation arose which made it impossible to protect both you _and_ Asami-sama, any member of _Sion Group_ would prioritize you, without hesitation.”

 

“That… oh.”

 

And now he felt worse, because he always knew the lengths Asami went to to ensure his safety, but that type of protocol meant that Asami was willing to die for him, to give up his own safety net in Akihito’s favor. Kirishima must have seen his mind working because he stayed silent, going back to the article he’d been reading about cleansing rituals. After a minute:

 

“I don’t know if you realize how well-liked you are amongst Asami-sama’s men.”

 

Akihito snorted and held his hand out for the lo mein.

 

“Aren’t you always telling me how much trouble I am?

 

“And you are,” Kirishima watched distastefully as Akihito took a large mouthful and chewed, allowing the ends of the noodles to fall back into the carton. Still, he accepted it when Akihito passed it back. “But you’re very amicable on the day-to-day basis which is more than I can say for any of Asami-sama’s past dalliances.”

 

Akihito laughed, but the thought of Asami with another still left a bitter taste. Still, he had no business being jealous of past partners, not when he’d been truly unfaithful.

 

“There were many, I’m sure.”

 

“No.” Kirishima shook his head. “Very few in fact, and all thankfully short lived.”

 

Akihito looked up sharply and Kirishima waved his hand as if sweeping his words away.

 

“The relationships, not the people. They’re all still alive, presumedly panning for gold somewhere else.”

 

Akihito took a swig of his own drink, vaguely satisfied to outrank Asami’s past interests amongst his staff, then leaned in to read over Kirishima’s shoulder, knowing that nothing they found would be applicable, but pouring over it anyway.

 

**_}{_ **

 

“I can take the bus you know, I’m sure you want to get home.”

 

Kirishima dismissed the notion with a shake of his head and unlocked the door to his car as they made their way down the block. It was cold, with clouds that threatened snow blocking out the moon.

 

“Asami-sama would be apoplectic if he ever found out I put you on a bus. Regardless, it’s on my way.”

 

Akihito nodded, secretly relieved. He jogged around the the other side and slid into the front passenger seat, rubbing his hands together. Kirishima lagged behind though, long enough that Akihito took notice and craned his head to see what the older man was up to.

 

He was paused at the door, looking out across the street with an odd expression. When he finally got into the car, he was back to his usual taciturn self.

 

“Don’t look.”

 

“At what?” Akihito immediately started to turn and caught himself, forcing himself to look back at Kirishima who started the car and turned on the heated seat on the passenger side.

 

“There’s a car across the street. It’s one of ours.”

 

Akihito rolled his eyes. 

 

“Yeah well, he does that sometimes.”

 

“I know,” Kirishima’s brows drew together, “I organize your tails. Asami-sama never mentioned wanting one for you tonight.”

 

“Is it weird?”

 

“It’s not normal. It’s not protocol to put someone on you without me knowing. I vet your team.” 

 

“Well maybe-“

 

Kirishima slanted him a look that said _‘whatever you’re about to say is absolutely wrong’_ and Akihito cut himself off. 

 

They drove in silence, a vague sense of dread settling over Akihito for reasons he didn’t quite understand. Kirishima was palpably disquieted, glancing at his phone on the dashboard every few minutes.

 

It rang as they pulled up to the building.

 

“Yes, Asami-sama.”

 

Akihito strained to hear what was being said on the other line but couldn’t make it out. He could however see Kirishima’s grip on the wheel tighten with every passing second. 

 

“Understood.”

 

He ended the call and pulled away, turning into the parking garage.

 

“It seems I’ll be escorting you upstairs.”

 

}{

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for staying with me! I hope that satisfied some of you, I know I had fun writing this again and I hope you had fun reading it.
> 
> Please leave a review if you enjoyed and remember I"m still active on tumblr as bellajuku-tokyo !
> 
> Thank you so much for reading and have a brilliant new year,
> 
> Isabella


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